Ascension
by timeywimeyspaceywacey
Summary: Indis was hoping to settle down comfortably after taking control of the Thieves Guild and slaying Harkon, but when it turns out that she's the Dragonborn of legend, things become more a little complicated. Follow the new vampire threat, the resurrection of the dragon cult, and the return of Alduin. FDB/Teldryn Sero
1. Catching Up

**Hello, beautiful people! Indis and I are both back here, in what's the sequel to In the Sun. If you haven't read it, go check it out! Or not. I trust you'll still be able to catch on just fine, even if you don't. :)**

* * *

_Indis looked out over the city of Blacklight, watching the light of dusk wash everything in gorgeous hues of red, orange and pink. She, Teldryn, and Aventus had relocated here after she and Serana killed Harkon, choosing the city in Morrowind to build their new life. Indis still ran the Thieves Guild of Skyrim from a distance, trusting Brynjolf, her second in command to handle things while she was gone. Teldryn worked as a mercenary occasionally, mainly to give himself something to do._

"_How are you feeling?" Teldryn asked, joining her out on the balcony of their home, leaning over to give her a quick kiss, resting his hands on her swollen, round stomach. _

"_I feel fine," she replied with a small smile. "I'm ready to have the baby, that's all."_

"_Soon, muthsera. Just a little longer. I was thinking that—"_

Indis was jerked awake suddenly, drawn away from her pleasant dream by a loud clicking and purring at the foot of the bed.

"Gods dammit, Butters!" she snapped, sitting up and flicking the blankets at the little spider. "No spiders on the bed! Get off! Now!"

Her attempts to get one of Potato's babies off the bed were in vain; the little spider simply hissed at her, and then settled back down and went back to sleep. Indis sighed, running a hand through her short hair, irritated by being woken up. It had been over a month since the…_incident_ at the Western Watchtower in Whiterun, and instead of making the journey to High Hrothgar, she had retreated to the pine forests of Falkreath, never intending to answer the Greybeard's summoning. Teldryn had not only been trying to convince her to answer their calling, but he had insisted they put their plans for a family and for Blacklight on hold until she determined what _they_ wanted from her.

_Damn dragons_, she thought angrily to herself, flopping back onto her pillow. _Ruining everything._

"Aww, Ma, I told you Butters likes you. He probably figured that you were lonely because Pa is gone," Aventus said as he entered her bedroom, clambering up onto the bed to join her. Teldryn and Stenvar had left to go on a weeklong hunting trip, leaving her, Lydia and Aventus alone at Lakeview. "Oh yeah, some man is here for you. He said you knew him. He's waiting outside where we eat breakfast."

"What? Did he say anything else?" Indis asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she got out of bed.

"He did. He said to tell you that he's awful sorry about what happened in Snow Veil Sanctum. Well, I think that that's the place he said."

"Aventus, I need you to stay in here and lock the door," she said, her voice and hands trembling as she rapidly dressed, grabbing Chillrend as she headed out the door.

* * *

Serana's hands moved deftly in the dirt, patting the rich soil down over the seeds that she had placed in the earth. She reached up one arm to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen in her eyes, accidentally leaving a streak of dirty on her forehead. Grabbing a few nightshade seeds from the bag at her side, her hands scooped out soil from an untouched location, getting ready to deposit the seeds in the newly dug hole when large drops of rain began to pour down, pelting her body and splattering against the ground. Serana frantically shoved the last seeds in the ground, smashing down soil over them. Standing up, she dusted the dirt off her hands and grabbed the bag of seeds, running out of the courtyard, back to the warmth inside Castle Volkihar.

"Isran, come on! This looks like this might turn into hail," she called back to the surly Redguard man, watching him get peppered with hail from the safety of the doorway.

"I'm here, I'm here," Isran muttered as he caught up with her, rubbing an angry welt on his head that the hail had left behind. "I still don't understand why we have to waste our time frolicking in the courtyard, planting pretty flowers."

"Because," Serana replied, shaking water droplets off her cloak. "Technically, this castle belongs to my mother, and it took a lot of work for Indis and me to convince her to let it be used as a station for the Dawnguard. So, it'd be wise to keep her happy, and if rebuilding the courtyard makes her happy, we'll do it."

Isran grunted in reply, knowing full well that Serana was correct. After defeating Harkon, the Dawnguard had established an uneasy peace with Serana and her mother Valerica, the only remaining Volkihar vampires, and Valerica had agreed to assist the Dawnguard in getting any remaining unruly vampires under control, offering to let him use the castle as a western base after Indis and Serana convinced her it was a wise choice. Her mother paid little mind to the comings and goings of the castle, preferring to spend her time locked away in her alchemy laboratory. Most of those now living in Castle Volkihar hadn't even met Valerica, and Serana was seen as the one actually in charge. "Alright, I'll help you plant the damn flowers. I'm not going out there in that weather, though."

"I never said you had to," Serana said with a smile. "Let's go see Balimund, see if he has any news," she continued, making her way towards the castle's forge. She had been passing through Riften when a group of feral vampires attacked, gravely injuring the blacksmith in the process. Knowing that Indis would be incredibly upset to lose another close friend, Serana had offered him the gift of vampirism when he was on the brink of death, and he had accepted.

"There you are," Balimund said, barely glancing up at them, pumping the bellows to the forge. "I've got that dagger finished for you Serana. Haven't worked with glass too much, but I think it turned out well."

"Thank you," she replied, taking the weapon from his hands, glad that she insisted he make the journey to live at that base of the Dawnguard. "Any news from your supply runs to Solitude?"

"Yes, actually," Balimund said, wiping the sweat off his brow. "I'm guessing you're asking about vampire attacks. It's the same as last time. A few fools still attacking towns and villages, seems there's a group that's particularly active in the Reach, but that's not the most interesting of it. Apparently, the Dragonborn has been discovered. Surfaced in Whiterun, that's what I've heard."

"Who is it?" Serana asked excitedly, recalling the stories that she had heard of the Nordic hero when she was a young girl.

"No idea. Just heard that they're around now, that's all," Balimund replied with a shrug. "Whoever they are, it sure would be useful to have 'em on our side. You said Indis was livin' near Whiterun now? Write her, if you want. Ask her if she knows anything about this Dragonborn."

* * *

He was waiting exactly where Aventus said he would be, basking in the early morning sun that was filtering through the trees, looking perfectly content as he ate a sweet roll.

"You son of a bitch," she spat, holding her sword ready, ready for a fight. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now and drag your dead, worthless body back to the Guild."

Mercer looked up at her, shrugging as he took another bite. "I don't have any," he said, his harsh, gravelly voice sounding surprisingly honest. "However, you're intrigued as to why I'm here, and that's going to be just enough for you."

He was right. Her curiosity would overcome anything else. "Alright," Indis replied, sheathing her blade, leaving her hand lingering over the hilt as she leaned against the wall of the manor, her eyes never leaving him. "Why are you here?"

"Turns out retirement is rather…dull."

"Boredom? You're here because you're _bored_?" she asked incredulously, laughing. "That can't be all there is to it."

"You're right, it isn't. I've got a long list of cons and heists, things that need to get done, and I find that wreaking havoc all over Tamriel is best done with a partner," he said, rising from his place at the table, stuffing the last of the sweet roll in his mouth. "That's the main reason why I'm _here_," Mercer finished, gesturing to the area around him.

"And what makes you think that I would want to help you, you stupid asshole?" she spat, fingers wrapping tightly around the hilt of Chillrend. "You murdered Gallus, robbed the Guild blind, tried to kill me too, and then you made off with the Eyes and the Skeleton Key. That wasn't enough for you?"

"Right, about trying to kill you…" Mercer trailed off, pulling something out of his pocket, holding it out to her.

After a few seconds, she snatched it out of his hands; she flipped it open, giving him one last suspicious look before reading the contents. "Dear Indis," she read out loud. "Apologies for the attempt on your life. I'm glad I didn't succeed. Love, Mercer. What is this?"

"What does it look like? It's a card. An apology card."

Overcome by rage, she smacked him in the face with the card several times, causing him to raise his hands defensively and back away. "A card?" she shouted at him. "A card? You hand me a shit little card, and you think everything's going to be alright now? And you still haven't answered my question. What makes you think I would help you?"

"It was worth a try. I think, well, I _know_ that you'll join me," he began, quickly closing the distance between them, pushing her against the wall. "Because you and I are one and the same."

"I am _nothing_ like you."

"Oh, really? Where to begin…I've seen the wealth you have hoarded away, very impressive, by the way. Makes me look like a sane pauper. You murdered that meddling Mjoll, simply for the reason that she was standing in the way of you and what you wanted, and you had to stop her before she stopped you. You and I," Mercer whispered, his lips brushing against as her throat as he leaned in closer. "Would work very, very well together. I was thinking Hammerfell, just consider of all the wealth to be had in those port cities, with all the ships coming and going…"

"You're wrong," she interjected, her tone less than convincing. "I am nothing like you," Indis repeated, her certainty waning away.

He responded with a laugh. "Keep telling yourself that."

"Shut up," she gasped, pushing him away, drawing her sword. "I don't have time for this."

"That's right, I suppose you don't. At least not with all the dragon business that you've got to take care of. Very, very interesting, absorbing the soul like that."

Indis backed away, eyes widening, frantically trying to put together all the pieces, wondering how he could possibly know about _that_. "You…you were there," she accused, glaring at him, angrily jabbing him in the chest with one tiny finger. "You were there. That's the only way you could possibly know."

"Guilty."

"But…but where?"

"Think. You're a clever girl. I always did tell you that you needed to pay better attention to your surroundings. Disappointing that you obviously haven't taken my words to heart."

She gave an exasperated sigh as she closed her eyes and bit her lip, pulling the events of that day, images that had been seared into her memory, to the front of her mind. After a few minutes of deep, intense thought, her eyes snapped open. There had been a Whiterun guard there, a man shorter than the rest of his comrades, who had remained rather silent the entire time, even as she demonstrated a Shout. He had been one of the guards that followed Irileth up to Dragonsreach, standing by quietly; fading into the background as Balgruuf excitedly advised her to make the journey to High Hrothgar.

"A guard. You were wearing a guard's uniform."

"Very good. Aren't you the smart one around here? You deserve a sweet roll," he said condescendingly, beginning a slow, mocking clap, stopping when he heard the noise of horses approaching. "Think about it. I won't be too far," Mercer finished, rapidly descending down the steps, stopping briefly to call one thing back to her before he retreated deep into the thick pines. "By the way, I hate your hair."

* * *

Jarl Balgruuf poured himself another massive goblet full of wine, his patience growing thin with the persistent Imperial Legate in front of him. This wasn't the first time that an emissary of the Legion had been sent to convince him of something, usually it was demanding the right to garrison troops in his city, but this time, the Legion wanted something different.

Indis.

Although at the moment, the Legate in front of him had no idea that it was her that he had been sent to find; the man in front of him kept referring to her as the Dragonborn, having no idea exactly who he was seeking.

"Balgruuf, clearly you cannot deny that having the Dragonborn on the side of the Legion would truly be a great advantage, perhaps the one we need to gain the upper hand over the rebels. You have always shown such support for the Empire. The identity of the Dragonborn is all I need, my Jarl. But…perhaps…perhaps General Tullius was wrong about you, and your support."

Balgruuf sighed, running a large finger around the rim of his goblet. "I don't know the Dragonborn's name," he lied, hoping the Legate bought it. "He was a big Nord man, blind in one eye, grey hair, lots of scars. From what I understand, he was passing through, happened to be by the Western Watchtower when the dragon attacked. I advised him to answer the summons of the Greybeards, but what he did after that, I'm uncertain. I'm afraid I can't be of more help."

The Legate sighed and rose from his chair, eyes watching him suspiciously for a few seconds, thanking him for his time as he took his leave, his heavy boots leaving a loud, echoing footstep in their wake.

"You can't protect her forever," Irileth said, breaking the silence.

"I know, but I can try."

"Tullius isn't going to be the only one hoping to use the Dragonborn. Ulfric will be as well, and I'm willing to bet he'll be a great deal more persistent than Tullius. I'm curious as to the methods he'll choose, especially once he finds out that the Dragonborn is actually a pretty young woman."

"You don't think I know that Irileth?" he snapped, slumping down in his chair. "I need to see her."

"Will you send a letter?"

He shook his head. "No, I think in this case, it'd be best to speak to her in person. Let me know when she's in Whiterun again."

* * *

"Any trouble while we were gone?" Teldryn asked, setting down his bags before he leaned down to give her a kiss. "We brought back a deer for venison, just as you requested muthsera."

She paused, reflecting on that morning's unexpected guest, debating as to whether or not she should tell him, self-consciously touching her shorter hair in the process. After a few seconds, she shook her head. "No, no trouble. Things were quite calm around here," Indis said, giving him a smile, wrinkling her nose as she got closer. "You smell absolutely awful. Want to clean up at the lake? I'll come with you. I wanted to talk to you about something anyway."

"What did you want to talk about?"

"This…Dragonborn, or whatever it is, business."

* * *

The man sat slumped against the stone wall of the cell, uncertain as to whether or not he should be thankful that the Elves hadn't come for him in several days. It could mean that they had obtained the information they needed from another source, or he had been left here to die, discarded after the Thalmor realized he would be of little use to them. He crawled over to the opposite side of the small, dank space that he inhabited, raising one hand to the wall, scratching another thin line next to the others with one long, grimy fingernail.

He had been tortured, held captive for months, he knew not where, watching, listening as his few living comrades succumbed to death or madness. He had been on the brink of losing it, and his sanity had been on the verge of slipping away multiple times. However, he had managed to avoid this thus far by concentrating on what was outside of his small prison, his mind wandering to his happy, calm childhood with his sister, his time as a Stormcloak, most frequently reflecting on the woman he missed and loved.

He curled up on the filthy mat in the corner, letting out a long sigh, his ragged breath creating a cloud in the frigid air in front of him as he muttered a hasty prayer to the Divines. Resting his head on the pile of foul rags that he used as a pillow, Ralof of Riverwood fell into a deep slumber, dreaming of happier, more peaceful days and the ones he loved.

* * *

"You're absolutely certain about this, Galmar," Ulfric Stormcloak asked, the deep rich timbre of his voice filling the small war room. "Convincing the Dragonborn to join our cause would undoubtedly draw more to our ranks, but we do not have the men or the resources to go on a wild goose chase across the whole damn province to find them or figure out who they are. Who is your source?"

"Eorlund Grey-Mane," Galmar Stone-Fist replied, placing his hands on the table, looking Ulfric dead in the eyes. "The Grey-Manes have been unwavering in their loyalty to you, and Eorlund is a grounded man, not prone to flights of fancy. I'd say that this lead is worth the time and effort it takes to investigate."

"Well, then," Ulfric replied, a small smile crossing his scarred face. "Tell me what you know."

* * *

**There you have it, the first step of Indis' journey as Dragonborn! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Many thanks to EpicSquirrelNinja for Mercer's idea of a good apology. As always, follows, favorites, and reviews get you free imaginary cookies and lots of love!**


	2. Problems, Worries, and Dangers

Galmar Stone-Fist slid the worn, crumpled letter across the table towards Ulfric, watching as the jarl picked it up, unfolded it slowly, his brow furrowing as he read the contents.

"Eorlund is certain? This is…interesting," he remarked, eyebrows rising. "The Dragonborn is a woman? An Imperial?"

"Yes, I believe so," Galmar replied, his low voice gruff. "It seems the gods have an interesting sense of humor."

"Imperial or not, having her join our cause would be a great advantage."

"Gaining her favor might be a bit more difficult than you think. Read the other side of the letter," Galmar said, motioning for him to flip the paper over. Ulfric turned the letter over, frowning as he continued reading Eorlund's message.

"Balgruuf?"

"Seems she's quite…close to him, if you catch my meaning. He's made her a Thane of his hold, and she's known him for quite some time, long before she ever discovered she was Dragonborn. If she's loyal to Balgruuf, then it wouldn't be surprising if she were sympathetic to the damned Empire."

"But she hasn't officially declared support for or joined the Legion?"

"As far as I know…no."

"Well, this may be difficult, but not impossible," Ulfric replied, tossing the letter down on the table. "We'll just have to do our best to sway her opinion. Get my quill and inkwell. I believe it's time for me to send a letter to this Indis Mero."

* * *

Indis sat at the small table in their bedroom, foot tapping frantically as she hastily scrawled out a short, quick letter to Brynjolf, asking him to meet her in Whiterun. This was her fifth attempt to write something, and she had finally settled on something short, something that didn't give away any information and didn't directly mention Mercer. Hopefully, he would still be able to sense the urgency of the situation.

_Meet me in Whiterun as soon as you can. Be discrete._

She let the hot, melted wax drip onto the folded paper, finally stamping it with a seal of the Guild's Shadowmark, passing it off to Lydia, demanding that she get it to a courier as soon as she possibly could. Indis leaned back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh as she scratched absentmindedly at her face, unintentionally leaving a large smear of black ink running across her cheek.

"Are you coming?" Teldryn asked, tapping her on the shoulder, looking at her inquisitively. "Looks like I'm not the only one who needs to clean up now."

"Sorry, what? Oh, right, right," she mumbled, jerked out of her stupor. She stuffed her writing supplies back into her desk, the wooden chair grating against the stone of the floor as she rose. "I'm coming now. I'll be right there."

She followed him outside and down towards Lake Illinalta, weaving in between the thick pines, footsteps silenced by the thick bedding of pine needles below. Indis perched herself on a relatively flat boulder at the water's edge, silently watching as he began to scrub away the filth of a week spent out in the forests hunting. Her mind began to wander, and she couldn't help but think back to that morning's visitor. She was still puzzled by the entire thing, still trying to figure out what exactly he had wanted. He had apologized, had seemed to be anything but his usual antagonistic, cruel self, and that was what threw her off the most. Indis unconsciously shivered, still put off by how odd and unsettling the whole encounter with Mercer had been, hoping that he didn't show up again. She hoped Brynjolf would be in Whiterun soon. He needed to know.

"So, what do you think?" Teldryn asked, looking up at her curiously.

"Err, what?" she replied, hoping she could convince him that she had been listening. "About the…oh…it sounds interesting," Indis finished vaguely.

"You weren't listening, were you?" he asked, crossing his arms.

She sighed. "No, no I wasn't. I'm sorry."

"Something wrong? You've been acting a bit strange today. You did say you wanted to talk, so do tell what's on your mind."

"Nothing's wrong," she lied, still debating whether or not she should tell him about Mercer's arrival. "Just thinking about this…Dragonborn business. I think I'm going to speak to the jarl about it, because honestly, I have no idea what this means now. If I left soon, I could probably make it there later this evening. What do you think?"

"Seems like a solid enough plan," he replied, briefly ducking back under the water. "I do think that you should join me in here before you leave, though."

* * *

She arrived in Whiterun late at night, her departure delayed after she ended up spending a great deal more time in Lake Illinalta with Teldryn than she had initially planned. After trudging into a very empty and dusty Breezehome, she climbed the steps to her small bedroom, falling onto the bed. Indis lay there silently for a few seconds, sitting upright quickly when she heard an odd sound. She drew her small dagger, heart racing as she crept towards the source of the sound, feeling incredibly foolish when she realized that it was a tree branch scraping against a window.

"You're being paranoid, Indis. He's not here," she said out loud, speaking only to herself, giving a nervous, shuddering laugh as she lay back down on the bed. She hoped she was right.

* * *

Irileth had directed her out to the great porch of Dragonsreach when she came seeking the jarl the following morning, and as she approached Balgruuf at the table at the far end of the porch, he spoke to her without even turning around.

"I was wondering when I would see you again, Indis," he said simply, taking a bite of his eggs.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Lucky guess. Actually, you're not the first person I did that to. Irileth told me that you were back in Whiterun, so I assumed that you would visit at some point. Took a few tries, but I got it right."

Indis laughed, taking a seat a few chairs down from him, choosing to keep her distance. "Here I was, ready to be impressed," she said, picking up a piece of venison.

"It's been what, two months? I had hoped to speak with you last time you were here, after the dragon attack, but you left so quickly. Have you gone to High Hrothgar to see what the Greybeards summoned you for?" he asked, shielding his eyes from the early morning sun.

"Right, about that…" Indis began, setting down her food. "I don't really want to."

Balgruuf turned to her, a frown turning his mouth into a thin, grim line. "What do you mean you 'don't really want to'?"

She picked up the venison again, and began attacking it with a nervous voracity, teeth gnawing and gnashing on the piece of meat. "I think it's quite obvious what I mean. I don't want to go to High Hrothgar, and I have no intention of going. Is travelling there and speaking to these Greybeards absolutely necessary?"

"It would be an insult, an affront, to not answer them," he replied, his voice growing harsh. "Do you know how lucky you are? How much some would sacrifice for this position of power that you're in? Do you?"

"Then let them take my place," she spat, tears welling up in her eyes. "I never asked for this. I don't want it. I just want to be left alone." She rose from her seat abruptly, the heavy wooden chair scraping against the floor, the sound of wood sliding against stone leaving an echoing screech. "I'm leaving now."

"Indis, come back. I'm sorry. I meant no offense. Please. There's more we need to discuss."

She paused, turning back slightly. "Such as?"

Balgruuf sighed, setting down the goblet he had been drinking from, standing up to join her.

"Something I need to warn you of. A few weeks ago, an Imperial Legate arrived, asking for information on the Dragonborn. On you."

"What…what does that mean?"

"It means that people in power are going to be looking for you now. All eyes are on you, the great hero of legend. People are going to be paying a great deal more attention to you now, and there will be those that will attempt to earn your favor for manipulative reasons of their own. It appears that General Tullius already wishes to have the Dragonborn on the side of the Empire, and I wouldn't be surprised if Ulfric Stormcloak came searching for you next."

She twisted her hands nervously. "What…what should I do?"

Balgruuf shrugged. "Perhaps it is too early to tell, but I'm not going to hesitate to advise you to be wary. Those who have shown no interest in you before may do so once they find out who you are, and may seek to somehow use you for their own gains."

"I just won't tell them who I am."

"That may work for a short time, but eventually, you won't be able to hide this from others forever. I've managed to keep the Legion at bay by giving them somewhat…misleading information."

"You…you lied to them?" she gasped, growing more uneasy. "What will happen if they find out? You shouldn't have done that."

"What's done is done. It will be fine."

She stood there uneasily for a few minutes, mulling over what he had just told her, clearing her throat to break the awkward silence. "I…I should be going now," Indis said quietly, making to leave when he called out to her, his approaching footsteps echoing across the stone of the porch.

"Indis, where do your loyalties lie?"

"I…I beg your pardon?"

"Am I your jarl?"

"Of course," replied, confused by the strange turn that the conversation had taken. "You're my jarl. My loyalties lie with you. Always have, always will."

He took a few steps closer, reaching out, gently touching her arm. "Is that all there is? Just loyalty? When we last spoke I asked you something, and you were about to reply when we were interrupted. I want to know what you were going to say."

Indis nervously raised a hand to her face, absentmindedly running a finger along the scars on her cheek. The last time they had spoken alone, the dragon attack had interrupted their conversation, and she had never had an opportunity to answer. He had asked her if she loved him. "I…I think you know what the answer is."

"I want to hear you say it."

"No," she replied, backing away from him. "I think perhaps this would be best left unsaid. Until next time, my jarl."

* * *

Indis bounded down the steps of Dragonsreach, with all kinds of mixed emotions swirling around inside, ready to get back to Breezehome, hoping that Brynjolf would be arriving in Whiterun shortly. She passed by the Gildergreen, trying to drown out the loud preaching of the nearby Heimskr, wishing she could teach him another lesson. She descended the steps that went down towards the Plains District, and she spotted him standing over by Fralia Grey-Mane's stall, eyeing the beautiful jewelry inside.

"Don't even think about it," she mumbled, giving the redhead a small nudge.

"There you are, lass. Now, mind telling me what this is all about?" Brynjolf whispered, peeking out from under the hood of the priest's robes that he had chosen to use as a disguise.

"Not now," she whispered, taking a quick look over both shoulders, as though she expected Mercer to pop up behind them suddenly. "Meet me at my place soon. I don't have a spare key, but I'm assuming you can get in just fine."

Brynjolf left her side, and Indis turned back to the browsing the market stalls, feeling relief that he had arrived safely. Suddenly, her good mood dissipated when her thoughts were interrupted by the loud, abrasive voices of Olfrid and Idolaf Battle-Born. She rolled her eyes when she realized it was them, feeling fury build up when she realized that they were harassing Fralia Grey-Mane, an old woman. Indis was as loyal to the Empire as them, but she hadn't ever gotten along with any of the Battle-Borns, mainly because she found them obnoxious and insufferable. She watched as the two men left, making her way over to the rattled woman.

"What was that about Fralia?" she asked, glancing back at the two men as they walked away. "Are you alright?"

"It…it was about my son Thorald," she said quietly, her shaking hands smoothing down the simple dress she was wearing. "It isn't safe to speak of it here. Would you meet me at my home? We can discuss this more there."

* * *

Indis twisted the knob to the Grey-Mane residence, wondering what she was about to get herself into. She stepped inside, inspecting the home when all of a sudden; a very angry, large Nord with a war axe readied stepped out, eyeing her with anger and suspicion.

"Who are you? An Imperial spy?" the man bellowed, closing the gap between them.

"Avulstein, stop!" Fralia called out, wringing her hands as she pled with him. "She's here to help us. Please, put your weapon away."

"How do we know we can trust this woman?" Avulstein growled, his eyes never leaving Indis.

"I suppose you don't," Indis replied with a shrug, crossing her arms. "But from what I heard out in the marketplace, it sounds like you need all the help you can get. What's going on? I heard something about a Thorald? And…who are you? I've lived here in Whiterun for a while now, and I've never seen you."

"Thane Indis, this is my son Avulstein," Fralia said, stepping forward. "Avulstein, this is Thane Indis."

"A Thane, eh? I suppose that means you're somewhat honorable. As my mother said, my name is Avulstein. I've been hiding here, out of fear for being arrested by those Imperial bastards. Thorald is my brother. We've been told that he's dead, but I know he isn't. Those damned Battle-Borns know something," he said, slamming a fist onto a nearby end table, causing the two women to jump. "They're hiding it, practically taunting us, and rubbing it in our face. There must be some kind of proof in that house of theirs, and if someone could just break in, I know there would be evidence. I know it has to be there. I can't leave the house, so that's why I need your help."

Indis gave a small smile. "Did you say something about breaking and entering? Luckily for you, that's one of my specialties."

* * *

Breaking into the Battle-Born residence had been incredibly simple. The lock on their door was a simple one, and it only took the work of one pick before she was stepping inside. It was the middle of the day, and she hoped that there wouldn't be anyone there since they often spent their days at the market antagonizing the Grey-Manes or kissing Balgruuf's arse in Dragonsreach. She crept slowly towards what she remembered to be an office, passing through the doorway, giving a small gasp when she saw a snoring Olfrid taking a nap. Indis glanced nervously towards his office, eyes flicking back and forth between the sleeping man and the door. Each step from that point was as quiet and deliberate as possible, and she froze when a floorboard creaked underneath her tiny feet. She glanced back nervously, at Olfrid, heart pounding when he gave a snort.

"Olfrid…" he muttered, giving another snort. "Patron of the great clan Battle-Born." He rolled back over, beginning to softly snore.

As soon as she was satisfied that he was truly asleep again, she turned the door to his office. She made her way over to the desk, rifling through papers, quickly scanning over notes, stopping when she picked up what appeared to be some kind of Imperial missive. The Grey-Manes were right. Their son was alive, and a captive of the Thalmor.

* * *

Avulstein Grey-Mane read over the missive quickly, anger quickly clouding his face as he tossed aside the missive. "I knew it! The damn Thalmor. Seems this is bigger than just the Imperials," he said with a sigh.

"What will you do now?" Indis asked, looking at him across from the table.

"I'm going to gather some men and rescue him from those damn witch elves," he muttered, standing up.

Indis stood up as well, biting her lip, knowing that she shouldn't be getting her hopes up like this, but after reading the letter, her more optimistic side had managed to convince her that he might be there as well, that he might be alive, even if the chances were slim to none. "Do you mind if…could I come with you?"

He looked up at her curiously, raising an eyebrow. "What? Why?"

"Several months ago, I got a letter that someone I care about, someone I love was dead, killed by the Thalmor. He was a Stormcloak captain, and he might…he might have been taken there. I don't know for certain, but it's worth a shot. "

"Well…I don't see why not. I'll gather some men and meet you by Orphan's Tear, a shipwreck not too far from the keep one week from now. Be there and be ready. Don't be late."

* * *

After making more detailed plans with Avulstein, she retreated to Breezehome, unsurprised to see Brynjolf waiting inside for her. He was seated by the fire, and with the hood of his robes down, she could see that he was worried.

"Alright, lass. Mind telling me what this is all about? Couldn't you have said in the letter?"

"Brynjolf," she began, taking the seat next to him, staring deep into the fire he had made. "Bryn, he's…he's back. Mercer is back."

Brynjolf jerked his head up, staring at her in disbelief. "Indis, what? How do you know? How can you be sure?"

"He showed up at my home in Falkreath a few days ago. He said he wanted to just talk, that he wanted to apologize for trying to kill me in Snow Veil Sanctum. He didn't try to hurt me or anyone else, thankfully," she said, pulling out the note that Mercer had given to her, passing it to Brynjolf. "He asked me to join him. He said that…he said that I was just like him."

"Did he now?" Brynjolf asked in surprise, shaking his head. "Lass, don't let that get to you. You're nothing like him. Now, this letter," he trailed off, reading over it quickly, giving a short snort of derision after he had read it. "'Love Mercer'? The only thing Mercer loves is himself."

"Bryn, it was...it was odd. Something wasn't right. It all _sounded_ so genuine and convincing, but it was coming from Mercer. Anyone else and I likely would have believed it. But it was from _Mercer_. He's up to something, isn't he? What is he planning?"

Brynjolf ran a hand down his face, staring into the fire. "I don't know what Mercer is up to, but you're right. Something is amiss."

"What should we do?" she whispered. "He said he would be close by. I don't know what that means for us."

They both glanced up and around instinctively, both giving nervous laughs. "I don't know what we're doing, lass. As if Mercer is going to jump out from behind us."

"Should we tell the others? Karliah?"

"I'll tell Karliah. The rest of the Guild has been more cautious, warier. I don't know if we should tell them yet, especially since we don't know what he's up to yet. They're all still absolutely furious, and I don't want anyone to do anything rash or impulsive. We can wait, see if we can't figure out what he's up to."

"Do you think he'll try to harm anyone?" she asked, pulling her feet up onto the chair, hugging her knees to her chest. "I worry about Karliah, out there at Nightingale Hall all alone."

"I don't know. Karliah moves around quite frequently, keeps pretty active in major hold cities. I think she'll be fine. The Guild itself is strong in numbers, so I don't think he'd be stupid enough to try anything there. It's _you_ I'm worried about, lass."

"What? Why me?"

"Out there, all alone in that wretched forest. Come back to Riften, please, I'd feel better if you were closer; knowing that he's out there, planning gods knows what. Have you told Teldryn?"

"I…I haven't. Should I?"

"Lass, you should. Bring him and Aventus, too. I hope he doesn't try anything while you're not with them."

She stood up abruptly, staring at him in horror. "Bryn, do you think he would? Oh gods, I have to leave, I have to go back now…"

"Calm down, calm down. I don't think he would, I shouldn't have said that. I should be leaving, get back to the Guild. I'll warn Karliah. I'll try to heighten security as quietly and inconspicuously as possible. Get back to Riften as soon as you can," Brynjolf said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before exiting Breezehome. "Stay safe, lass. Keep your guard up."

* * *

From what he knew of her, from eavesdropping on her intimate conversations with Brynjolf, to their own discussions, to watching her around others, Mercer Frey realized that Indis Mero was incredibly forgiving, to those who wronged her and wronged others, almost to a fault. He had attempted to not only appeal to the more greedy and violent side that he recognized, but to her more compassionate one as well. He had hoped to get some more time with her; he had seen the faintest signs of her resolve crumbling, of her will to resist fading ever so slightly. If he only had another opportunity, perhaps two, he knew that he could sway her, but he had miscalculated. Misjudged. He had thought that she would think about it, consider what he was offering, yet she hadn't. He had made a mistake going to her home, and if he didn't do something to remedy this situation he had put himself in, it would be his undoing.

He watched from a shadow as the redheaded Nord surreptitiously slipped out of her smaller, more humble abode, eyes never leaving them as she briefly peeked out the door, shutting it quickly after Brynjolf. From their nervous glances and on-edge behavior, it was obvious that she had told him. Brynjolf now knew that he was back in Skyrim, that he was nearby. Mercer scratched at his stubble, scowling in frustration, letting out an angry grunt. Brynjolf or Indis would undoubtedly notify the rest, and with an entire angry, betrayed Guild hunting him down like an animal in full force, he didn't stand a chance.

If he wanted to make it out of this alive, he had to get help.

* * *

After Brynjolf had left, she had thrown any items she needed into a large, worn satchel with shaking hands, slipping out of Whiterun under the cover of darkness, stealing a horse at the stables as she passed by, making sure that no one else was around before she claimed the animal for her own.

She had dug her heels into the beast's side, spurring the dappled mare into a full gallop, carrying her back to Lakeview much more quickly than she could have managed with a carriage. By the time she arrived back at the manor, dusk had fallen, and her illegally obtained mount was foaming at the mouth, clearly exhausted. Indis quickly dismounted, the sound of her heart thudding in her chest and her heavy, nervous breathing breaking the unsettling silence around her home. Throwing the front doors open, she burst inside, running around the fire pit in the entrance, already assuming the worst.

_Gods, they're dead, Brynjolf was right, Mercer came for—_her paranoid mind began, but was quickly interrupted by a voice behind her.

"Hiya Ma! I didn't think you would be back tonight. Pa said you were coming back tomorrow," said Aventus, peeking out at her curiously from the kitchen.

Indis whipped around, giving a huge sigh of relief as she rushed over to him, gathering him in her arms. "Oh, thank the gods, you're alright. You're all alright…" she gasped, squeezing him tight.

"Of course I'm alright, Ma. You're being weird," Aventus mumbled, clearly embarrassed by her display of affection.

"Yes, you are being a bit…weird," said a deep, gravelly voice behind her. She turned away from Aventus, allowing him to wriggle out of her arms, meeting Teldryn's eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," she lied, clearing her throat as she stood up, awkwardly inspecting her fingernails. "I'm not acting odd."

"I honestly can say that I have no idea how you manage to convince so many people to do things for you or believe what you say, considering that you are often an incredibly awful liar," he said, crossing his arms. "Now, why don't you tell me what's going on?"

* * *

**There it is! Chapter 2, I hope you enjoy it. It would have been up sooner, but I decided to take a nap when I got home from class, so yeah. So, what do you think she would have said to Balgruuf? What is that sneaky Mercer up to?**


	3. Rescue Regrets

Brynjolf sat at Indis' desk, hastily scratching out a letter to their Guildmaster when a soft voice made him jump. "Brynjolf."

He jumped up, the chair behind him falling backwards, knocking over the inkwell he had been using in the process, scrambling to keep the spilled ink from reaching the nearby ledgers and papers, hands shaking during the entire process. "Gods, lasses. You scared me. Don't sneak up on me like that."

Vex and the Indis' recruit from Whiterun, a snarky, raven-haired Imperial named Arwyn, glanced at each other briefly before Vex spoke. "Brynjolf. Are there any bigger jobs? It's been months, and she's more than proven herself with what I've given her. Or is that a question for the boss? When is she getting back?"

"I don't know, I don't know," he mumbled, nervously shuffling around papers with large ink-stained hands. "Ask another time, I'm…busy."

* * *

"What was that all about? Did Brynjolf seem…off to you?" Arwyn asked, momentarily looking up from the bread she was picking at to look at Vex.

"Oh, I don't know. He and the boss have been acting like that ever since Mercer got away," Vex replied, motioning for Vekel to bring her another bottle of mead. "They both have. Bryn and the boss, that is."

"Mercer?" Arwyn asked, wrinkling her nose. "Who?"

"Mercer Frey, our previous Guildmaster. That's right; I forget that you never met him. Be glad for that."

"What? Why?"

"Well, he murdered the boss before him, robbed the Guild blind for decades, right under our noses, tried to kill the current boss who he happened to be…well, I'm guessing you'll hear about that later, she doesn't really like to talk about it, and he made off with the Eyes of the Falmer," Vex said, stopping to take a sip of mead.

"Oh," Arwyn said, eyes widening. "Well, I'm glad I've never met him."

Vex shrugged. "I suppose. The boss and Brynjolf both act like Mercer Frey is going to pop out from behind a rock or pillar and destroy us all. Which, I'm sure he could do if he wanted, but if you ask me, he's long gone. I don't think we have anything to worry about."

* * *

Teldryn shut the door the door to their bedroom behind him, turning to face her with crossed arms. "Now, I think it's time you and I talk. What's going on?"

Indis sat down on the edge of their bed, absentmindedly running a finger lazily in circles, refusing to meet his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing is going on. Now why don't you come here, I've missed you," she said, patting the bed next to her.

"Oh, no. I'm not falling for that again," he replied, shaking his head. "No more using your feminine wiles to back out of a conversation. It's worked before, but it won't work again. Please, won't you talk to me? Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

She sighed, nervously tapping her fingers on her bouncing knee. "Promise you won't be angry."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. Well, I did, in a way, I suppose. Mercer is back. He came here that morning that you and Stenvar returned from hunting."

"Mercer? Your traitorous former Guildmaster that tried to murder you came _here_? Why didn't you say anything to me?" Teldryn said angrily, kneeling down in front of her, gripping her hands tightly. "He could have killed you, Aventus, and Lydia."

"I didn't want you to worry. Tel, you said you wouldn't be angry. It'll be alright. I've talked to Brynjolf, and once we figure out what Mercer is doing back in Skyrim, we'll go after him. Until then, I'd like you to take everyone to stay in Riftweald while I'm gone," she replied, reaching up to gently trace the tattoos on his face.

He furrowed his brow. "Gone? Gone where?"

"Well, I'm going up north to help someone rescue his brother from the Thalmor, and I think that…I think that there's a small chance Ralof might be held there as well."

"The Thalmor?" he hissed, looking absolutely horrified. "No, you're not going. It's too dangerous."

Indis scooted back away from him towards her pillow, glowering at him the whole way. "I am a grown woman, and I do as I please. I'm going. I never said you had to come. I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

"This is suicide," he growled, his gravelly timbre full of anger. There is no way I'm letting the woman I love walk into a death trap. Sometimes I can't decide if you're incredibly stupid or absolutely insane."

Her head snapped up and she stared at him, a smile growing on her face. "What did you just say?"

"I said that I can't decide if you're stupid or insane. Probably both, now that I think about it."

"No, no. What you said before you called me stupid and insane. Which I'm neither, by the way. The part where you said you _loved_ me. Do you really?"

"Of course I do," he mumbled, clearing his throat as he crossed his arms, looking surprisingly sheepish. "I don't know why you're acting like this is some big, astounding revelation."

She shrugged. "You've just never said it before. Never actually told me. No need to look so embarrassed," she said rolling her eyes, her lilting voice teasing. "Gods forbid that you actually like, much less love, your wife. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Now please, come to bed. Can we finish talking about this later?"

* * *

Indis rolled over, resting her head on Teldryn's chest, savoring the feel of his heated bare skin against hers. She let out a satisfied sigh as he pulled her closer, and she shifted slightly, just enough so that she could kiss his neck.

"I think I'm going to go," she began quietly, lazily twirling her fingers in his dark chest hair. "To this High Hrothgar place, that is. After we finish with Northwatch Keep and get to Riften, I'll go then."

"I'll travel with you, if you wish. Although I do wish you would reconsider this insane, idiotic decision to take on the Thalmor," he replied, pushing her onto her back, positioning himself above her.

"We'll be fine, we'll have others with us," Indis gasped, cut off as he silenced her with a kiss.

"If you say so. We'd best get our rest, especially if we're leaving early tomorrow," Teldryn said, giving her one last kiss before pulling away and clearing his throat and mumbling a few last words. "Goodnight, Indis…I love you."

"I love you too, Tel. Ready to go again?"

* * *

"Tel, help me," Indis gasped, using all of her strength to try and tug on her inky black Nightingale armor, wriggling around frantically. "I just need someone a little stronger and I think I can get it on."

"It doesn't fit anymore, muthsera. Why don't you wear something else?"

"It…will…too…fit," she replied in a huff, turning around to fix him with a glare.

Teldryn sighed, coming over to assist, helping her yank on the armor. "This is what happens when you sit around doing nothing but eating sweet rolls for months."

"That isn't _all_ I did," she said, knowing that he was right. Ever since they had returned to Falkreath, she had spent her days lazing by the lake reading, sleeping, eating delicious food, and doing little else. "See? I told you it would fit. Just a little tight in the stomach area, that's all. Want to go tell Gunjar to get the carriage ready?"

He nodded, leaving her alone in their room. Indis picked up her cowl off the nearby table, inspecting herself in the mirror, gingerly poking the small, round stomach she had developed. "Let's hope I haven't lost my touch," she said with a sigh, yanking the cowl over her head.

* * *

"So this is Northwatch Keep," Indis whispered, crouching down next to Avulstein Grey-Mane, silently counting the guards patrolling the outside. "I've been by here before, when I've travelled to Castle Volkihar, which is right over there," she continued, pointing towards the structure in the distance. "I once stopped to ask what this place was, and I was told that it was none of my damned business and if I didn't continue on my way, I'd be sorry."

"How incredibly encouraging," Teldryn remarked wryly, his mouth setting itself into a grim line, quickly pulling his chitin helmet over his head. "What's the plan? Do you even have one?"

Avulstein turned around briefly to motion for the men he had brought with him to be quiet, and then turned back towards the keep, tapping his chin as he thought out a plan. "I think we'll have to go with a full-on attack."

Indis nodded, readying her bow. "I think you're right. They probably won't just hand over their prisoners, no matter how politely we ask," she said, pausing to gently elbow Teldryn. She could practically feel him rolling his eyes behind that damn helmet. "I think I could take out one of those archers from here, provide a distraction while you get closer to the keep."

She watched as the men crept quietly towards the keep, nocking an arrow in Auriel's bow, taking a deep breath as she took aim at the oblivious archer patrolling the upper level of the keep. After drawing her bow as far back as she could, she fired, waiting for the arrow to make contact with the Thalmor guard. When the arrow whizzed by the guard, missing it by a good couple of feet, she silently cursed, fumbling for another arrow as she heard the Thalmor shout to their comrades that there were intruders. _Great going, Indis. Looks like you have lost your touch._

* * *

Indis crouched down in front of the locked door, hurriedly putting the lockpicks in her hands to use. Her fingers were quickly becoming numb and chilled, and the cold was making it difficult to work. After a few clumsy movements, the lock clicked and she twisted the door open, motioning for everyone to hurry inside.

The door to the keep shut behind them, the wind from the blizzard brewing outside ushering in a few last snowflakes. Indis brushed the snow off her shoulders, thankful that none of them could see the embarrassed flush behind her cowl. Luckily none of them had been hurt, but her arrow that missed the guard had caused a great deal more chaos than they had anticipated.

"That wasn't so bad," she whispered, voice softened by the thick leather over her mouth. "Although I'm guessing that there are plenty more of them ahead. I think that if we want to get any prisoners out of here safely, we'll have to make sure we kill all Thalmor that are nearby. Let's do this as quickly and quietly as possible."

"Lead the way," Avulstein said, motioning for her to go on ahead.

She crept forward, feet silently padding along the stone, wishing that the big, blundering Nords behind her could be a little more silent. As they passed by the row of cells that held the prisoners, she took in the sight of many men slumped over, coming to a dead stop in front of a cell in the middle, her eyes widening.

"Ralof?"

* * *

There were voices outside his cell, voices whispering quietly. Ralof sighed, clumsily scratching at his face as he closed his eyes. It was probably the Thalmor, coming to take one of them again. The movement stopped in front of his cell and he gritted his teeth, preparing to be violently dragged out of his cell and into the interrogation room, a process he had become all too familiar with. What he wasn't prepared for was to hear a soft, female voice; one that he had dreamed about, believing he would never actually hear it again.

"Ralof?" she asked, hands fumbling with the lock on the door.

He tried to push off the floor, to stand up, but his weak, cramped legs collapsed beneath him, and he fell back to the stone below. "Indis? Is that…is that you?" he whispered, his voice sounding hoarse and foreign to both of their ears, unable to believe if it was really her.

"Don't try to get up," she whispered her voice shaking as she pulled her cowl away, kneeling down next to him. She placed her quaking hands on either side of his face, tears blurring her eyes as she attempted to inspect him. He was most definitely injured, attempting to grip her arms with hands that no longer seemed to work. He had been weakened by torture and captivity, unable to even stand on his own. He was thin, gaunt, malnourished, and a ghost of the man he once was, but it was most certainly Ralof.

* * *

Teldryn wiped Thalmor blood off of his blade, using the dark robes of the dead man before him, before sheathing his sword. Indis had been working on freeing Ralof from some dark, dank cell, and he had chosen to assist Avulstein in his men in killing the nearby Thalmor, having no desire to watch his wife's reunion with her former lover. He turned the corner, following the Nord men in front of him, nearly crashing into the large men who had suddenly stopped for some reason. Teldryn looked up, heart nearly stopping when he saw what they were all staring at.

It was Indis, engaged in a passionate kiss with the blond Nord man in her arms.

Avulstein cleared his throat, scratching at the back of his neck uncomfortably before clapping a hand on Teldryn's shoulder. "Sorry 'bout that."

* * *

**Here it is! A nice, short chapter that I made you all wait too long for. I could have added more, but I wanted to leave everyone hanging because I'm evil. But anyway...**

**INDIS Y U SO DUMB? What do you think the aftermath of this is going to be?**

**Also, the Guild's newest member, Arwyn, belongs to harronhermy. :)**

**One last thing: if you leave a review, let me know which team you're on! Team Teldryn, Team Ralof, or Team Balgruuf! This serves no purpose other than to satisfy my curiosity. I'll post the most popular team with the next chapter!**


	4. Mead and Magic

Valerica inspected the Nord man lying on the bed, calmly evaluating all of his injuries before standing up and turning to Indis. "Well, the potions I gave him will ensure that he gets good rest for a while. He won't wake up for a while."

"Is he…" Indis began, twisting her hands together, staring down at Ralof in concern. After making a frantic rushed escape and parting ways with the Grey-Mane brothers, she and Teldryn had dragged the incapacitated Ralof to the nearest place: Castle Volkihar. "Will he be alright? Will his injuries heal?"

"He'll be alright, once he gets some rest, some food, and has a decent amount of time to recover," Valerica replied, gathering the empty potion bottles in her arms. "The injuries, however, no. The tendons on his hands were sliced completely through, and those are wounds that are months old. They didn't heal correctly, and there's nothing to be done now. He'll never be able to bend his fingers again. The broken leg healed improperly, and he'll likely walk with a limp from now on. As far as his emotional state…that remains to be seen."

Indis watched Valerica leave, sitting down on the edge of Ralof's bed with the sigh. She reached over, brushing a strand of blond hair out of his face. "Oh, Ralof. Please, please, be alright," she whispered, taking one of his worn, broken hands in hers.

* * *

Teldryn sat outside on a bench in the newly restored courtyard of Castle Volkihar, silently sulking, wondering how it would be best to take his leave, since she obviously still had feelings for the man. His morose, mopey chain of thoughts was quickly broken by the sound of a twig snapping behind him.

"The courtyard looks lovely now," Indis began, sitting down next to him. "Serana said that Isran's the one who has been helping her out here. It's difficult to imagine Isran planting flowers."

He remained silent as he removed his helmet, choosing to stare off into the distance instead of look at her. "You kissed him," he angrily accused, red eyes narrowing.

"I know," she said, reaching over to gently touch his arm, flinching when he pulled away. "That's why I'm here. I came to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"Sorry? You kissed him, right in front of me," he hissed standing up, walking away from her. "How could you?"

"Teldryn, I'm sorry," she repeated tearfully. "I'm so, so sorry. Please, forgive me."

Teldryn whipped his head around, fixing her with a fierce glare. "Why did you do it? Would you rather I just left you so you could be with him?"

"Teldryn, no!" she gasped, scooting closer to him, her face falling. "I…I don't know why I did it. I think it was just the shock and the relief of actually finding him there. And no, I don't want you to leave," Indis continued, placing her hands on either side of his face. "I chose you, and when I said that I loved you, I meant it. I honestly did. Kissing him was a mistake, and it's not going to happen again."

He sighed, kissing her on the forehead, still feeling angry, but unable to resist her teary apology. "If that were me in there, would you have reacted the same way?"

"I probably would have ravished you on the spot," she replied, kissing him on the cheek, moving to brush away a few stray tears.

"What if it were…" he began, trying to push away the image of her kissing Ralof from his mind. "Serana that you found in there? Would you have kissed her?"

"Most definitely," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Now _that's_ something I wouldn't mind seeing."

"You are absolutely incorrigible."

He laughed, drawing her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Perhaps. What's going to happen to him?" he asked, finding himself not wanting to say Ralof's name out loud.

Indis shrugged. "I don't know. I thought we could offer to travel back with him to Riverwood once he wakes up. Serana said something about a supply ship that's supposed to be coming here in a few days. We could likely find passage to Solitude and then take a carriage from there. I'm sure for a few extra coins the driver will make a stop out of his way. I hope he'll be alright after that."

* * *

"What do you mean they've stopped paying?" Indis said with a sigh, rubbing her temples, wishing that the irritating jarl would just disappear from her porch, and she could get back to practicing with Lydia. It had been a week since they had returned from Castle Volkihar, and instead of spending her days lounging around, she had elected to practice her sword and bow skills with Lydia.

"It means exactly what I say it means. Those bandits we have a deal with stopped paying, and they've said in some ridiculous message that they have no intention of ever doing so again. I want you to take care of them," Siddgeir hissed in a quiet whisper, glancing over his shoulder at the housecarl that was curiously watching them. "Kill all of them, spare none."

Indis sighed. "As you wish, Jarl Siddgeir."

* * *

She knew that perhaps this wasn't the best or most intelligent way to hone her skills with a bow or a sword, but Indis knew that shooting arrows at targets or slashing away at practice dummies wasn't going to help her much in a real fight.

Hence her decision to take on an entire camp filled with Orc bandits by herself. After checking that she had Auriel's bow, Chillrend, a good stock of arrows, and anything else she would need for her travels, she set out for Knifepoint Ridge alone. It probably would have been wiser to bring someone along, but Indis decided that she wanted to do this by herself.

_Let's hope this isn't a death sentence_, she silently mused as she walked along the cobbled road, stopping briefly to adjust her cowl, trusting this wasn't a bad decision.

* * *

Indis crept along; the soft rays of early morning filtering through the thick pines, a muffling spell at work, silently smoking around her feet, ensuring that her feet made no sounds. There was one large Orc guarding the entrance, lazily standing against the wooden fence surrounding the Ridge.

She drew her bow, taking a deep breath as she took aim, choosing to take the shot at his bare, exposed throat. The arrow was fired, and she hit her mark, leaving him choking, gurgling, staggering forward, and clawing at the foreign material lodged in his neck. Indis snuck forward silently, watching as the man fell to the ground, still somehow not even close to being dead. His eyes widened when she stepped in front of him, and he unsuccessfully tried to call out for his comrades, grasping for his weapon, but was finally sent to the Void when she plunged her sword through his chest. She withdrew Chillrend, wiping the blood of on his disgusting, worn fur armor.

Indis dragged his body away from the gate to the entrance, not wanting one of his fellow bandits to open the gate to find him dead there, alerting others to the presence of someone unwanted. After kicking a bit of dust over the pool of blood, she flicked open the latch on the gate, slipping through, quickly ducking behind a large, thick post. Her eyes scanned the area and quickly counted the number of Orcs that she would have to contend with. There were two that she saw on this lower level, and they were currently both seated at a table, lamenting about their lack of beer.

_Two of them, damn. One, I could take on, I think. If I fired an arrow, I might be able to take one down, but then I'd have the other charging at me_, she thought to herself, taking stock of her situation. After taking a few short minutes to make her decision, she found herself readying a calm spell in one hand and Chillrend in the other. She stepped out from behind the post, magicka building in her hand firing the spell at one of the men. The other jerked his head up, large green hands quickly reaching for his steel warhammer, but let go once the second calming spell she used made contact with him.

"'Ey there," grumbled one of them, looking up at her, sitting at the table content. "It's been a while. How ya been?"

"I've been fine. Sorry about this, by the way. I know we used to work together but…jarl's orders," Indis replied as she grabbed the Orc's greasy hair to steady his head, rapidly slashing the man's throat, watching as a faint, icy smoke emitted by Chillrend curled off of his skin.

"That…that wasn't nice," the other Orc began, watching her calmly from the other side of the table, wrinkling his nose as he took a sip of mead. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I know, I know. But you really should have kept paying Siddgeir. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here," she sighed, repeating the same process with the other man. _Perhaps you shouldn't make dirty deals with sleazy people like Siddgeir and me. _

She paused, leaning against the nearby bookshelf, fumbling in her satchel for potions, relieved that she had the foresight to bring them along. Popping the cork off of a potion to restore her magicka, she quickly downed it, tossing the empty bottle aside afterwards. She dug through everything else in her satchel, praying to the Divines that she included some for stamina; all that sitting and eating had definitely taken a toll on her body. Her hand finally surfaced, clutching a dark green bottle. After squinting at it for a few moments, trying to recall exactly what it was, she gave a shrug and opened it, downing it quickly.

Indis drew her bow after she had put her satchel back into place, peeking around the corner. She used another muffle spell, creeping up the crude, sloping ramp that led up to the entrance of the mine where she would find the bandit chief. She readied another arrow as soon as she reached the top, taking careful aim at a bandit hammering away at the mine's forge. Her arrow pierced his chest and he staggered backwards, reaching for one of the weapons he had forged. She reached into her quiver for another arrow, pulling back the bowstring and releasing the arrow as quickly as she could when she noticed another Orc barreling towards her, war axe in his hands. The Orc at the forge stumbled backwards, incapacitated, but not yet dead. She sheathed her bow, grabbing Chillrend as the other man closed the gap between them. He swung his axe back with all of his might, bringing it back down towards her. She jumped backwards slightly, heart pounding when she heard a slight whistle and a small gust of wind from the speed and force of the weapon he had attempted to lodge in her skull.

_Fast, Indis, you've got to be fast_, she reminded herself, lunging forward with Chillrend as quickly as she could, spinning as she slashed at the man's side. The wound wasn't deep, and it certainly wasn't fatal, but it was just enough to slow him down. He had dropped his weapon to clutch at the wound in his side, trying to stop the steady flow of blood. Indis grasped Chillrend firmly, raising her hand to slash at him again. Instead of her blade making contact with his exposed flesh, Chillrend was tossed aside and she was thrown back as his massive foot made contact with her stomach. She flew backwards, landing hard on her back, gasping for air, hands fumbling for a weapon, any weapon, gripping the hilt of her dagger tightly.

"Stupid bitch," the Orc growled as he strode over to her, bringing his foot down hard on her chest. Indis cried out in pain as he pushed down with more force, threatening to make her retch, watching as he reached for the iron mace at his side, blood-drenched fingers closing around the weapon. She knew that she had only seconds to act, so she quickly grabbed her dagger and stabbed away at the only place she could, his ankle, thankful that he was wearing the near-worthless fur shoes that so many bandits favored. The man withdrew his foot, howling in pain, leaving her free to roll away towards the glass sword gleaming in the sun. Her hand closed around the cool, familiar hilt and she quickly rose to her feet, clumsily spinning the blade in her hand so that she was holding it the opposite way of how she usually would. Still gasping and wheezing, she made her way over to the furious, cursing Orismer, grabbing his neck as tightly as she could. Indis drew the blade back and plunged it deep through his heart as quickly as she could. She pulled the blade back out, a sickening squelch meeting her ears, collapsing on the ground next to him, hoping she caught her breath soon.

After a few minutes of rest, and a few potions later, she was back on her feet, readying another spell in her hands. "You're coming with me," she murmured, watching as a blue light swirled around the dead Orc, carrying him upwards to a standing position, giving him life for a few more minutes.

"Nyyunnnghhh," he groaned, standing there dully watching her, blue light pulsing around him.

"Shh, be quiet. Come on, we have your chief to kill now, then you can die for good," she said, breaking into a lazy jog towards the entrance to the mine.

* * *

She slipped into the mine, her reanimated Orc behind her, ears pricked and alert, listening for any sounds of movement. In addition to the wind that was whistling through the cracks in the door, and the steady drip of water, she heard the sound of one, lone voice quietly singing very, very badly. Indis cast another muffle spell, her feet moving forward deftly, silently forward and around the trap near the entrance.

"So, I'm guessing you've come for me," Urzog, the chief sitting alone at the small table, said as he turned to face her, looking up as the sound of the resurrected bandit collapsing into a pile of dust met his ears "All my men are dead, aren't they? They'd have to be for you to make it this far."

"You're correct," she said grimly, fingers flexing around the hilt of Chillrend. "I was sent here by the jarl to kill you. All of you."

He sighed, removing his helm, setting it on the table in front of him, staring at his reflection in the dull steel. "I know. Just got sick of all of this, you know? I was hoping to go home to my stronghold, Dushnikh Yal. I'm too old to be chief there, too old to take wives, but I'm certainly too old for this," he finished grimly, twirling his white beard in his calloused, green fingers.

Indis paused, her fingers loosening up ever so slightly, surprising herself when she spoke. "Then go."

He let out a laugh, a barking sound that echoed throughout the small, enclosed space they're in. "You would just let me go? How do I know that you're not going to stab me in the back as soon as I get up?"

"Just go," she insisted, raising her hands, showing that she had no intention of hurting him. "I'm exhausted, every bit of me aches and stings. There's no way I could fight you right now, even if I wanted to. Just go. I honestly don't care."

He cocked an eyebrow, absentmindedly running a finger along one of his tusks. "What about the jarl?"

"Jarl Siddgeir," she began, spitting his name out with disgust and annoyance as she took the seat across from him. "Won't know. I won't tell him. Even if he did find out, there's no way in Oblivion that lazy sack of shit would get off his arse to get anyone to do anything about it. Besides, Dushnikh Yal is in another hold. Not much he could really do."

"Well, then," Urzog said with a sigh, popping open a bottle of mead. "This is unexpected, but your kindness will not be forgotten. As soon as I return, I'll send word to all the strongholds that you're to be trusted, and you'll be allowed in. Now, how about a few drinks before we depart?"

* * *

Indis stumbled out of Knifepoint Ridge, her belly and knapsack both filled with absurd amounts of mead, giggling to herself as she hobbled and stumbled down the ramp, feeling a delightful, light buzz from all of the alcohol she had consumed, awkwardly throwing open the gate that she had used to enter that wretched bandit encampment. The bright light of the midday sun burned at her, and she furiously blinked and cursed at the sun, raising her fist to shake it at the star in the sky when she heard a familiar sound.

A loud roar. The roar of a dragon.

She set down her satchel, ignoring the clinking of several bottles of mead crashing together and lazily raised a hand to her forehead, blocking out the sun as she surveyed the clear skies above. The beast was circling above, gliding through the skies over her. Indis cursed to herself, wishing that the dragon would simply magically vanish; wishing that she hadn't drank so much. A tiny part of her knew that she should just run, but the liquid courage coursing through her body gave her far more confidence and boldness than she usually had. The dragon had landed on top of a rocky outcrop, opening its mighty jaws to let forth a massive burst of flames, setting the dry brush nearby alight. Indis drew back her bow, releasing the arrow she had nocked, hoping that it hit the dragon.

The dragon hadn't noticed her yet, but the arrow that miraculously made contact with its body quickly alerted it to her presence. Indis fumbled for another arrow, her addled mind deciding that this might be a good time to put a Shout to use.

"_FUS!"_ she shouted, laughing as the tiny little ball of force made contact with the dragon's face, causing the scaly beast before her to give what appeared to be a small sneeze, making her laugh even harder. Indis clumsily dove out of the way, rolling into the nearby vegetation as the dragon took off in flight.

"I need a lil' help," she mumbled to herself, gathering a spell in her hands, feeling absolutely giddy when a flame atronach actually appeared after she had cast it. She watched as her conjured ally glided out into the open and began to launch fireballs at the dragon that had once again taken off in flight. Indis stumbled to her feet, reaching for another arrow, choosing to let her atronach provide the distraction as she rapidly fired arrows as fast as her aching, intoxicated body could.

The combined efforts of her bow and the atronach proved to be successful after what seemed like an age, and after a few more minutes, the dragon came swooping down, landing on the ground with a crash. Indis and the beast began an awkward, clumsy, violent dance, with both of them stumbling about with a lack of grace, feet seeking purchase on the soft earth below. The dragon would snap its jaws at her, and she would sluggishly dive at the weaker flesh of its sides and belly, taking advantage of its slow, awkward movements on the ground. The beast was growing weaker, leaving large splatters of crimson as it kept frantically turning and rotating its body, razor sharp teeth seeking to gain hold of her body. In a moment of madness, Indis grabbed onto the beast's wing, clambering over it and up onto the dragon's back, a task proven difficult by her state and the fact that she still had Chillrend unsheathed in one hand. Once on the beast's back, she crawled forward, beginning to giggle as she made her way towards the dragon's head, maintaining as firm a grip as she could as she scooted up the thrashing beast's neck. Indis grabbed onto one of the large, protruding horns on the dragon's head with her free hands, bringing Chillrend down into the beast's skull as hard as she could. The dragon's body tensed briefly before it released a shuddering sigh, lying completely still. She tugged on her blade, flinching slightly when a gentle spray of blood hit her in the face, collapsing to the ground next to the beast. Indis slumped against the dead creature, alternating between gasping for air and laughing, listening to the sound of the dragon's body crackle and burst into golden flame, sighing with relief as she felt the rush of the dragon's soul swirl around her before entering and joining with her body, closing her eyes and enjoying the memories of the dead creature next to her.

Indis rose to her feet, lacking the grace of the majestic beast behind her, making her way over to the satchel she had abandoned at the start of the attack. She dug out a bottle of mead and popped it open, unceremoniously swilling it down.

"D-D-Dragonborn?" stuttered a male voice nearby.

Indis looked up, surprised to see what appeared to be a Stormcloak scout staring at her in terror and awe. "Damn straight I'm Dragonborn," she proudly slurred, throwing the empty bottle against a nearby rock, watching as the glass and remaining liquid slid down the stone before picking up her bag and beginning to blunder away. "Now, if you'll 'scuse me."

* * *

It had been two weeks since Indis and Teldryn had brought him back to Riverwood, leaving him with his family and the news that he would likely never be a soldier again. Indis had quickly bid him farewell, and he hadn't seen or heard from her since. Ralof was having a bit of difficulty adjusting.

Ralof sat at the edge of the river, exhausted and humiliated by his failed attempts to help at the mill. He had attempted to carry a pile of chopped wood back to Hod and Gerdur's house, his broken, fumbling hands dropping the pile of wood. Ralof had tried his best to hide the embarrassed, angry flush that had spread across his face and neck as he gathered up what he had dropped, trying to ignore the snickers of Sven and Faendal. Afterwards, he had retreated to the river away from town, refusing to give others the satisfaction of watching him unhappily sulk. He looked up when he heard the crunch of approaching footsteps, surprised to see Teldryn.

"Glad to see you're doing better," Teldryn began awkwardly, clearing his throat.

"I suppose," the blond replied with a shrug. "Although if I heard Gerdur say 'Frodnar, help your uncle' one more time, I might just go mad. Is Indis here?" Ralof asked, trying not to sound too eager or hopeful.

Teldryn gave a small chuckle, sitting down next to him, removing his helmet. "No, she isn't. Stayed behind with Lydia and Stenvar. It's just Aventus and me. He wanted to have armor made for that damn spider of his. You should have seen the look on Alvor's face when I made the request. I had to pay him all the gold up front."

Ralof fell silent, made unhappier by the knowledge that Indis hadn't joined Teldryn in Riverwood. The two sat in uncomfortable silence, watching a pair of mudcrabs dig into the mud until Ralof suddenly spoke.

"There was a man," Ralof began quietly, unbent fingers clumsily scooping pebbles at the river's edge. "Back in Windhelm. His name was just Angrenor, although people called him Angrenor Once-Honored. Used to be one of the best soldiers for the Stormcloaks, until he took a sword through the chest. He can't fight anymore, so now he begs in rags on the streets. I used to pass by him, occasionally giving him a Septim or two, praying to the Divines that I never ended up like that. Looks like the gods didn't pay any heed to me," he finished with a bitter laugh, holding up his hands

"What will you do now? Indis did offer you a place with us and you are…you are more than welcome at Lakeview."

Ralof shrugged. "I don't know. My days as a soldier are over and I can't work at the mill. Can't grip any sort of weapon and I've tried to help Gerdur and Hod out, but I've caused more problems than anything else with these useless things," he said, wringing his hands. "I'm useless now. I don't know what I _can_ do."

Teldryn scratched at the stubble on his chin, uncertain of how his suggestion would be received.

"There is an option I can think of, and I ask that you be open to it, and don't dismiss it like most Nords do. It may be a bit more difficult to consider, given what the Thalmor did to you. There is the mage's college in Winterhold, and you may be able to find a place there."

Ralof gave a snort of derision. "Magic? That's for the weak, like those damn cowardly elves."

The elf gritted his teeth, trying his best to resist the urge to punch the moping Nord man in the throat. "Yes, yes. I've heard that all before. Perhaps you forget that some of your people's ancestors were legendary practitioners of magic? I asked to you to keep an open mind, that's all. As far as weakness…it takes a great deal of dedication, power and skill to master the arcane arts, and there are few who do. Magic isn't evil, and it should not be feared."

Ralof scowled, eyes focused on the water, glancing up at Teldryn to briefly glare at him for suggesting something so absurd. "Even if I were to consider this, I don't know any magic. I don't know anything."

"I'll teach you what I know, and I'm sure Indis would, too. She's actually become quite good with illusion and conjuration, two schools that I know little of. She also has a Guild contact in the college, a Bosmer fence by the name of Enthir. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to pull a few strings to get you in there. The choice is yours."

He continued to stare at the water, attempting to pick up a nearby stone to toss into the lake, sighing in frustration when his fingers failed to grip it. _It couldn't hurt to learn a few things, just to see how they are, it doesn't mean that I have to run off to Winterhold now, or ever. Besides, if you say yes, you'll get to see Indis again_, he silently mused before looking up at Teldryn. "I…suppose I'd like for you to teach me what you know."

Teldryn set down his satchel, cracking his knuckles before he turned to the Nord man. "Well, then. I suppose we should get started."

* * *

Teldryn walked up the steps to the outside porch of Lakeview Manor, exhausted from a long day of teaching Ralof a few spells. He set down his bag by the edge of the steps, surprised to see Indis sitting out at the table, surrounding by more than a few empty bottles of mead.

"Guess what I did today," she said happily, gesturing grandly, her wedding ring glimmering in the orange light of the setting sun.

"You drank an incredible amount of mead?"

"No, no, no, no," she began, mumbling something that was incoherent. "I killed a dragon all…by…myself."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "In this state? How in Oblivion did you manage that?"

"I managed it, because I'm…I'm amazing," she said with a giggle, opening yet another bottle before she slowly stumbled to her feet. "And to celebrate, I was thinking that…that we should go down to the lake, and do that one thing we did that one time."

"With the…?"

"Yes, that one," she said, clumsily beginning to make her way down towards the lake. "Don't keep me waiting."

* * *

The Stormcloak scout flew into the Falkreath camp, wasting no time getting back after his encounter with the Dragonborn. Galmar Stone-Fist, who was currently stopped there on his current tour of the camps, was leaned over the table in the main tent, inspecting the map at hand.

"General, General! I have news!" the young man gasped, stopping opposite of Galmar, looking at him with wide, pleased eyes.

"This better be important. You know I don't like distractions this late," Galmar grumbled, looking up to fix the man with a stern glare. "Now, what is it? What couldn't wait until morning?"

The soldier tore off his helmet, nervously tucking it underneath his arm. "The Dragonborn, sir. I saw her. I saw her kill a dragon and take its soul with me own eyes, General Stone-Fist, and…and I know where she lives. I followed her home. She was quite drunk, I don't think she suspected I was tailing her," he finished proudly.

Galmar stood up, shocked by the unexpected good news that he had just received, rapidly firing a series of questions at the man in front of him. "Drunk? Truly? You're certain? You remember where she can be found?"

The man nodded frantically. "I do, I do. Not too far from here, actually."

Galmar smiled, wishing he could see the look on Ulfric's face once he received this news. "Well, then. You and I are going to pay her a visit tomorrow morning."

* * *

**Whoa! Looks like Indis is going to be getting a visitor tomorrow, how is that gonna go? She met Galmar once, and it didn't go so well...**

**Here are the results for the teams:**

**Team Teldryn: 4**

**Team Ralof: 2**

**Team Balgruuf: 1**

**Team Love Triangle, because that's fun: 1**

**Team Undecided: 1**

**Looks like the sexy dark elf is the winner...for now, at least! :)**


	5. Complicating Matters

That infernal hammering just wouldn't stop.

Indis groggily dragged her head off of her pillow, the throbbing in her skull refusing to let up. She blinked slowly, her eyelids heavy and aching, flinching slightly as the bleary light of dawn met her eyes. After listening for a few more seconds, she realized that the pounding wasn't it her head. It was at the door.

"Tel…" she murmured, rolling over to nudge the Dunmer lying next to her. "Tel…the door. Someone is at the door."

"Is that what that sound is?" Teldryn drawled sarcastically, climbing out of bed, grabbing a pair of trousers nearby. "I'll go see who it is."

"If it's Siddgeir, tell him I'm not here. Better yet, just tell him I'm dead," she moaned, burying her face in her pillow, wincing when the door shut loudly behind him. "I hate him so much."

Teldryn sighed, tugging on a linen shirt, wondering who their guest would be this time. He flung open the front doors to the manor, surprised by who he saw standing there. He squinted and leaned in closer, taking a few seconds to make sure he was certain of who it was.

"Galmar Stone-Fist?" he asked incredulously, rubbing his shoulder after the large Nord man gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder. "It's been a long time, outlander. I thought you died a long time ago. Most would have, charging madly into a bandit encampment that size. What are you doing here?"

The Stormcloak general let out a loud, gravelly laugh, stepping forward. "Teldryn Sero! My favorite blade for hire. Pah! Bandits are no match for me," he said with a good-natured growl. "I'm here to see an Indis Mero. You boy," he finished, gesturing to the scout behind him. "Wait over there. I've got business to attend to."

"Indis?" Teldryn asked, brow furrowing as he wondered what business Galmar would have with her. "She's not exactly up to receiving visitors at the moment. A tad bit hungover. If you'd like, you can join me for breakfast. I have no idea when she'll finally come around."

Galmar sighed, crossing his arms. "I suppose I have the time to wait around," he said, following Teldryn inside, taking a seat at the long table in the main hall, looking around and taking in the scenery appreciatively. "Nice place she's got here. Must be quite wealthy."

"You haven't the slightest idea," Teldryn replied, sliding a plate of food in front of the large Nord man. "Running the Thieves Guild is incredibly lucrative. I honestly thought you had died when you ran off into that bandit encampment."

"When you turned around and left? Can't blame you, I suppose," Galmar said with a shrug, taking a bite of bread slathered with snowberry jam. "It's been what, decades now? How has life been treating you?"

"I can't complain," Teldryn replied, taking a sip from his goblet. "Work was slow after we parted ways, but things have picked up a great deal since then. I joined the Dawnguard, got married, so I've been doing fairly well. What happened to those old face tattoos you used to have?"

"Tattoos? Oh, those things! Warpaint that stained my face. Long gone. Married, you say? Do I get to meet the lucky lass?"

"Yes, if she ever wakes up. Although, I'm not sure if that will be happening any time today, given just how spectacularly drunk she got yesterday," the Dunmer replied with a sigh.

Galmar raised his eyebrows, silent for a few seconds as he put all of the pieces together. "You're married to the…the Dragonborn?"

Teldryn looked up from his breakfast in surprise. "I'm not going to bother asking how you know who she is, given that you probably have plenty of sources and spies. All I ask is that you keep her identity to yourself, but yes, I am."

"What's it like?"

"Some days are easier than others," he replied with a sigh, accidentally flicking a piece of egg across the table.

"Because she's Dragonborn?"

"No, because she's…Indis."

* * *

After punching her pillow in frustration several times in a row, Indis finally pulled on a robe to see who this loud visitor happened to be. Whoever he was, he had engaged Teldryn in a conversation, complete with booming voices and obnoxious laughter. She flung their bedroom door open, glowering at those seated at the long table, surprised to see a familiar face.

"What are you doing here?" she mumbled, crossing the room towards the large Nord man, sitting down next to him, still feeling less than sober. "Does your brother owe me more money? No? Perhaps? Well, I'll gladly take any gold you want to give me."

Teldryn raised an eyebrow. "Do you two know each other?"

"Yes," Galmar grumbled, reflecting back on their less than pleasant first encounter.

"He was kind enough to pay up the money that his worthless brother owed the Guild," she said, leaning in closer to inspect him. "You know, I never realized how handsome you are. Especially with that helm. Tel, look! He looks like an adorable little bear!" Indis slurred with a giggle, grabbing Galmar's face, giving his face a squeeze. "Wait, Tel. Do you know him?"

"I do," the Dunmer replied. "He was my Nord employer that I told you about when we first met."

Indis furrowed her brow and squinted, trying to recall a conversation that had taken place years ago. "Wait…he's the mad Nord? Hmm, that actually makes sense," she said with a small laugh, turning to inspect Galmar further.

"I'm not adorable," Galmar interjected, his gruff voice souring as he removed her hands. "And my brother isn't worthless."

"Fine, fine. I suppose he's just useless. What are you doing here?" she asked, the few minutes of conversation already causing the throbbing in her temples to increase. "Wait, never mind. Just…just tell me later. I don't care. I need to see if we have any hangover cures left."

Indis awkwardly rose from the table and set off towards the alchemy nook upstairs, hoping that Lydia and Stenvar hadn't used up the last of them. Clutching her robes closed with one hand, she ran a finger along the edge of the shelf that contained all of their potions, coming to a dead stop when she realized one very important, very unique potion was no longer there. A potion brewed by Hilde of Riverwood, that she had handed to her in an unlabeled dark green glass bottle. A potion she had so carelessly swilled down the day before, thinking, hoping that it was a stamina potion.

"Oh, fuck me," she groaned, resting her head against the bookshelf, gently banging her head against the wood a few times. "Fuck…me."

"What's wrong, Ma?" asked Aventus, who had somehow managed to stealthily appear behind her, Potato in tow.

"Nothing, nothing. I'm going to have to talk to your father for a bit, so why don't you come downstairs with me and entertain our guest?" she said hastily, whipping around in surprise.

After he nodded enthusiastically, she hurried downstairs as quickly as she could, grabbing Teldryn's arm, leaning closer as she whispered in his ear. "I need to talk to you now. Alone."

"I need to talk to you now. I don't have all day to lollygag around," Galmar said, interrupting her.

"I don't care, Galmar Stone-Face," she grumbled, reaching over to clap a hand over his mouth, failing as he swatted her away.

"Stone-Fist. The name is Stone-Fist."

"As I said, I don't care. I need to have a word in private with my husband," Indis replied hastily, dragging Teldryn towards their bedroom. "Talk with Aventus until we get back."

* * *

Indis shut the door behind her, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. "We need to talk."

"Yes, I caught that," Teldryn remarked wryly, crossing his arms as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "What was so urgent that it couldn't wait?"

"Promise you won't get angry."

He sighed, rubbing at his temples. "I've been hearing that a lot lately, far too much in fact. Now, what is it? What did you do this time?"

"Remember that potion Hilde gave us when we were in Riverwood? The incredibly potent, destined to succeed, fertility potion? The one we were going to wait until things calmed down to use?"

"Yes, I do. What, did Lydia and Stenvar use it? They'd best not have, that thing was damn expensive."

"No, no…" she began, sliding down the door, ending up defeated and crumpled on the floor with her back still pressed against the hard wood behind her. "I might have accidentally drank it yesterday shortly before we…you know. I thought it was a stamina potion."

He looked up at her incredulously; scratching at the stubble on his chin as he silently stared, at a complete loss for words. "I told you to put a label on that damn thing."

"I know, I'm…I'm sorry. What are we going to do?" she asked, her worried voice cracking.

Teldryn stood up and walked over to her, joining her on the floor. "I don't know," he replied, taking one of her hands. "Whatever the outcome is, it will be fine."

"But there's dragons, and the war, and…and Mercer," she finished, stomach churning at the thought of the Breton.

"True, but we don't yet know if it actually worked."

"Tel, three times. Three times last night."

"I know. You were quite demanding. Impressively insatiable."

"Oh, shut it. I didn't hear you complaining. There's no way the potion didn't work."

"Perhaps copious amounts of mead renders it ineffective? Or absorbing a dragon soul negates any effects? Or…something. I'm just saying, we don't know now. All we can do is wait and cross that bridge when we come to it, muthsera. Now, let's go see what Galmar wants. We probably shouldn't leave Aventus alone with him for too long, given his previous history of social interaction."

* * *

Galmar bristled uncomfortably, wishing that the little boy with the armored spider would stop staring at him so intently. "What do you want, boy?" he finally asked, his gravelly timbre breaking the silence.

Aventus' eyes widened. "I know you! You're Galmar Stone-Fist! I saw you a lot in Windhelm," he said, patting Potato on her head, eliciting a soft purr from the spider that seemed to only unsettle the General even more.

"Oh, you're that Aretino boy, aren't you? Weren't you supposed to be at the orphanage in Riften? Didn't the Jarl send you there?"

Aventus sniffed. "He did, but I ran away and went back to Windhelm, and then my Ma adopted me. I wasn't going to listen to that…" he began, words cut off by the sound of a door opening.

"I do apologize," Indis said, taking her seat at the table. "Now, what is it that you needed?"

* * *

Indis lay stretched out on the shore of Lake Illinalta, staring at the inky blue night sky, watching as the stars seemed to swim around in the darkness. She had come down to the lake after the General had left, after he had told her that the Jarl of Windhelm would be requesting her presence, and that she should be receiving a letter from him shortly. Galmar had left her with instructions, a curt demand that she not tarry for too long, that she get to Windhelm as quickly as she could.

"I hate Windhelm," she said out loud, a gentle breeze carrying away her words. "Wretched city."

"I know," Teldryn replied wearily. "You've mentioned that more than a few times before."

She fell silent, continuing to stargaze as she thought about everything that demanded her attention, of everything that had been piled on her continually growing plate; the summoning of the Greybeards and the impending journey to visit them, Mercer and whatever he was planning, her inevitable role in the ongoing war, anything the Dawnguard could potentially throw at her, and a possible pregnancy. All of a sudden she felt ill and overwhelmed, and with her head spinning and stomach churning, she quickly clambered to her feet and stumbled away, emptying the contents of her dinner at the water's edge.

"I…I don't think I can do this."

* * *

**Galmar seemed like a pretty cool guy in the game, without a lot of the hang-ups that Ulfric had, so he gets to play a larger role in upcoming chapters. The insane Nord was never named, so why not him? Poor Indis, TOO MUCH TO HANDLE. Just a tiny little filler chapter, things will definitely get more exciting soon, I promise. Next time, there's a visit with Balgruuf, a nostalgic hangout with Ralof, and travels to Riften and High Hrothgar. :)**


	6. A Study in Brokenness

Galmar had been correct when he told them that a letter from the Jarl of Windhelm would be arriving shortly. A few days after he left, a breathless courier had jogged up to Lakeview Manor, passing Indis a small, thick letter. She had tossed the letter aside, feeling little desire to deal with the contents, finally picking it up off of the large table in their bedroom a few weeks later after a great deal of nagging from her husband.

Indis sat down at the table, letting out a long, melodramatic sigh as she broke open the wax seal, ignoring Teldryn's curious stare and his impatient tapping foot, reading the page of neat script carefully. After a few minutes, she let the letter slip through her fingers, fluttering back down to the table it had sat upon for weeks.

"The Jarl just requested my presence," she began, propping her chin up on one balled up fist, looking up at him. "He said that he wished to offer his congratulations on my new status, and wished to meet and speak of High Hrothgar and the Voice."

"That certainly can't be it," Teldryn asked incredulously, furrowing his brow. "Seems far too…innocent. I suspect there are ulterior motives. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," she sighed, rubbing her temples before reaching out to snatch the letter up again. "I suppose we can make a stop in Whiterun after Riverwood, and I can go see Balgruuf and ask for his advice. If anyone would know what this means, it would be him. Speaking of Riverwood, are you ready to go?"

* * *

Indis sat on the edge of the small table with her arms crossed as she watched Hilde inspect her midsection quietly. Finally after a few seconds of silence, Indis cleared her throat and spoke.

"Teldryn said that there was something strange when he used the detect life spell," she began nervously, hoping that whatever it was, it wasn't evidence of another failure or loss.

"Hmm, something strange, you say?" the old woman asked, pulling away to prop her chin on a gnarled fist before turning to Teldryn, motioning for him to come over. "You used a detect life spell? Do it again, and let me watch."

Indis lifted her tunic, waiting as Teldryn cast the same spell they had used a few days earlier to determine that she was with child, eyes never leaving Hilde as she watched. After a few moments, the older Nord smiled and placed her hands on her hips.

"Nothing is wrong, with you or with the spell. You're perfectly healthy, as are the babes."

"I'm sorry, what?" Teldryn asked, raising his eyebrows at Hilde's use of the plural.

"As I said, nothing's wrong, although you both seem to be surprised by the news of twins."

"I beg your pardon?" Indis gasped, staring at Hilde with her mouth agape.

"Twins, yes, that's what I said. Two of them. They appear to be doing well, as do you. However, you'll need to slow down rather quickly, you'll have no other choice if you want everything to go well. Nothing too difficult or strenuous. You'll need plenty of rest these coming months."

Indis paused, crossing her arms as she mulled over what the Nord woman had just told her. "Nothing too strenuous? So, just a tad bit curious…a journey such as…" she trailed off, trying to suppress a relieved smile. "A journey up seven thousand steps to the top of a massive mountain?"

"Oh, goodness no!" Hilde replied as she shook her head, shocked that Indis would even be considering doing such a thing while she was in her current state. "As I said, relaxation, rest, and nothing of great difficulty."

* * *

They walked along quietly on the cobbled road towards Whiterun, listening to the soft chattering songs of birds, basking in the bleary rays of sunlight that managed to peek through the light grey clouds blanketing the sky. After they had left Riverwood in the distance, Teldryn pulled off his chitin helmet and tucked it under one arm, turning to look at Indis.

"Look at you, grinning like a drunken fool. You seem to be absolutely thrilled by the news that you'll be able to lounge around for months, with an excuse to eat as many sweetrolls and be as lazy as you damn well please," Teldryn drawled, briefly glancing over at her, a tiny smirk ghosting across his lips.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied with a small, haughty sniff, hoping the unadulterated glee and giddiness she was feeling about a hefty delay to her inevitable trip to High Hrothgar wouldn't surface and betray her.

Teldryn gave a small snort as he hoisted his pack further up on his back. "You've been avoiding answering the Greybeards summoning for ages now, and I was beginning to think that the Jarl himself would drag you up those steps up the mountain, given how irritated he's been that you haven't gone. Now you finally have a legitimate excuse to not make the journey, and you look absolutely delighted, even though I know you're doing your best to look properly remorseful and despondent."

"Oh, fine," she snapped, sitting down on a boulder just off of the main road. "You've got me all figured out. No need to look so gods damned smarmy and smug about it. Can we rest? I'm tired," Indis finished, feeling ashamed at how quickly her body seemed to be weakening, now that a great deal of her spare energy was already devoted to helping her unborn children grow.

"Certainly, I would not want to push you too hard, muthsera. As long as we make it to Whiterun by nightfall, there is no reason not to rest. How are you feeling?"

Indis shrugged, absentmindedly tearing apart a dead leaf that had floated down next to her, letting the jagged chunks fall to the ground, exhaling heavily afterwards. "I'm tired and hungry all the time, and often, the strangest things anger me or send me into another bout of sobbing. I feel incredibly delicate, weak, and unstable, and I suppose it's only going to get worse from here."

He sat down next to her, and he wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "It may, that's true. Which is why I want us to consider settling down somewhere, at least until you've given birth. Wherever you'd feel safest. Perhaps Riften, or Whiterun? Think about it."

* * *

Indis pushed open the door to the Jarl's private quarters in Dragonsreach, panting slightly from all the stairs she climbed in her thick, heavy armor. Before visiting him, she had stopped by Breezehome to pick up some of the most unattractive armor she owned, settling on the Bonemold that she had picked up off of a dead Reaver in Solstheim. When wearing it, she looked like some sort of odd creature from beyond the stars, or possibly a denizen dwelling deep within a Dwemer ruin; certainly not an attractive, desirable woman.

Jarl Balgruuf looked up as she approached, giving her a small smile. "Indis! It's good to see you again. Irileth said you had returned to Whiterun, and I had been hoping that you would stop by for a visit."

She took a seat across from him, pulling out the note from Ulfric Stormcloak, which she tossed onto his desk, motioning for him to take. "This isn't a social call, my Jarl. I needed your counsel," she said, choosing a curt and professional tone. "This is a letter I got a few days ago, shortly after Galmar Stone-Fist paid me a visit at my home in Falkreath."

Balgruuf briefly looked up from reading the letter to cock an eyebrow, looking at her skeptically. "Galmar Stone-Fist? What did he want?"

"To pass on Jarl Ulfric's message for him. There seemed to be no other reason. It turns out he actually knew Teldryn. Hired him quite a while back. Are you finished reading? What do you make of it? Tel thinks he has ulterior motives, wants something more than just a friendly discussion about High Hrothgar."

"Did he now?" Balgruuf said, setting the letter back down on the desk, tugging at his beard, twirling it between long, slim fingers as he thought carefully. "Well, I believe your husband is absolutely correct. I've no doubt in my mind that Ulfric wishes you to join his cause, and he'll do whatever it takes to curry favor."

"What should I do?" she asked, leaning forward to prop her elbows on his desk. "Should I go?"

He gave a small sigh, tapping his fingers on the wooden desk for a few second before responding to her inquiries. "I believe you should go. It wouldn't do to offend him by refusing his summons. I caution you, though. Keep your wits about you, and keep your guard up. You should be fine. Have you made the journey to High Hrothgar yet?"

Indis shook her head, trying not to laugh when Balgruuf looked positively exasperated. "I haven't, and I won't for a while."

"Well, why not?" he snapped, his voice growing impatient and stern.

"Because…" she trailed off, a finger tracing the grain of the wood. "I'm pregnant. With twins, actually. Not exactly the ideal state for climbing mountains."

He stared at her blankly a few seconds before responding. "What? How?"

"How? My Jarl, you're a grown man. I believe you know how children are made," she replied, her voice taking on a teasing tone.

Balgruuf laughed, shaking his head. "I suppose congratulations are in order. Now, I have to ask something…you didn't plan this in order to further avoid the Greybeard's summonings, correct?"

"No," she replied honestly. "Although things did work out nicely."

* * *

Ralof cast another spell, pleased to see a flame atronach appear with minimal effort. He had been hostile to the idea of learning magic at first, but after Teldryn delivered on his promise to send Indis to teach him some more spells, he had warmed up to the idea a great deal. Ralof whipped around to see if Indis was watching, surprised to see her staring disinterestedly into the distance, not paying any mind to him at all.

"Indis!" he called out, adjusting the light, blue robes as he walked over. After spending most of his adult life in armor wielding weapons, he was still having a difficult time adjusting to the garb of a mage.

"Hrmm, yes? What did you need?" Indis asked, still gazing past him, shaking her head after a few seconds. "Sorry, I've been a bit distracted. My mind's been elsewhere."

"It's alright," he replied, sitting down next to her, fumbling through his knapsack for a potion that would replenish some of his magicka. "Do you want to practice some more?"

Indis shook her head and gave a small smile, reaching for her pocket. "Actually, I had something different in mind. Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath put out a bounty on some bandits in his hold that have been harassing travelers, and he sent me the letter. You've been practicing plenty, and I think it's time we put your skills to the test. I was wondering, well…if you'd be interested," she said, holding out the small slip of parchment to him.

* * *

Helgen wasn't a place that Ralof thought he would ever see again, but when Indis handed him the bounty letter from the Jarl demanding the slaughter of the bandits that had taken up residence there, he found himself accepting the call. It hadn't taken them long to reach the walls of the destroyed city, and he swallowed a lump in his throat as he took notice of the bloodied remains on protruding spikes by the entrance.

"Damn," Indis whispered as she tugged on the large wooden gate. "They've locked it. Must've gotten word that the Jarl was after them. Never mind that, though. I can get it open," she continued, pulling out a few lockpicks, ignoring Ralof's stare as she opened the lock in a matter of seconds.

She gave the gate a slight tug, stopping to speak quietly. "I was thinking that I'd let you take the lead here. I'll be right behind you, don't worry," Indis said, giving him a small encouraging smile as she stepped aside, letting him walk through in front of her.

Ralof slipped through the gate, casting oakflesh in order to better protect himself, given that he was only wearing thin robes. He continued walking forward, eyes searching the rubble of the city, unsettled by the eerie silence. He looked back over his shoulder, eyes falling on Indis who was a good ways behind him, her bow at the ready. She jerked her head towards the left, calling his attention to a lone bandit who was leaning against the rubble of a tower, unaware of their presence at the moment. Ralof took a deep breath, conjuring a flame atronach with one hand, sparks forming in the other. The loud sounds of his spell-casting called the bandit out of his stupor, and the man unsheathed his sword and began towards Ralof, his obnoxious battle-cry piercing the air. Ralof shot sparks at the man, hitting the Breton bandit square in the chest. The man stumbled backwards, clutching at the scorched leather, moaning and cursing as he tried to shake off his injuries. A fireball launched by his atronach hit the man mid-charge, and Ralof cringed as he was met with the sounds of seared flesh and an agonized scream. Sparks formed in his right hand once again, and they leapt from his palm to the bandit, ending the man's suffering.

"Good," Indis said, jogging up behind him. "Now, use the resurrect corpse spell that I taught you. He was quite the screamer, and I think he alerted some of his comrades. Looks like they're coming now," she finished, pointing to several running towards them in the distance. "Ready to try out that calming spell I taught you?"

Ralof nodded, hoping that Indis had him covered while he cast another spell, watching as blue magicka swirled around the dead bandit, resurrecting him for battle once again. The undead Breton set off towards one of his former allies, brandishing the simple steel sword he had wielded in life. His atronach aided his resurrected ally, and Ralof quickly swilled down a potion to restore his dwindling magicka, eyes never leaving the bandit that wasn't engaged in combat heading right towards them. Feeling rejuvenated, he used all of his strength to cast the calming spell on the man, surprised when the Orismer stopped dead in his tracks.

"Why, hello there," the man said in a deep, gruff voice, placing his battleaxe on his back. "I haven't seen you around here before."

Ralof looked at Indis in surprise, who merely shrugged. "It is a bit odd when they get like this," she admitted, watching the placid bandit standing in front of them. "The spell will wear off soon. Finish him," she said coldly, crossing her arms as she watched Ralof.

"Indis, I don't think…I don't know. He's just standing there, he's not attacking us or anything," Ralof continued dubiously, harboring doubts as a simple flame gathered in his palm.

"If you don't do it, I will," she said, drawing a small, golden dagger from her waist. "But first, I need to know something. Are there any more of you?" Indis asked the bandit, smiling when he shook his head. She glanced at Ralof, who shook his head and stepped backwards. After his refusal, she grabbed the Orc's hair, drawing her blade across his neck in one swift movement, a ray of murky sunlight briefly flashing against the golden metal. "Well, that wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would be, mainly because of your atronach and that bandit you resurrect," she said plainly, pointing at Ralof's conjurations lollygagging a short distance away.

He briefly stared at her in shock and disbelief as she calmly wiped the dagger clean on the bandit's fur armor before sheathing it, his concentration broken by a few heavy splashes of water on his cheek. Ralof looked up towards the sky, startled to see that thick, dark grey clouds had covered the blue sky and thick raindrops were beginning to fall in abundance.

"Come on, let's get out of this. It looks like it might turn to hail soon," Indis said as she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards a large stone structure, yanking her hood up to protect her head from the heavy downpour. Ralof allowed himself to be pulled along, instinctively attempting to squeeze her hand tighter, passing through the rotted door behind her.

"Well," she began quietly, gently tugging her hood back down. "It's been a while since we've been here," she whispered, running her hands along the walls of Helgen keep, briefly glancing at the skeleton of a Stormcloak that she had once looted an axe and a bloodied blue cuirass off of.

Ralof took her hand again, linking his damaged fingers through hers, feeling a slight surge of happiness when she didn't pull away. "Do you think anyone is here?" he whispered, looking around cautiously. "That bandit said there weren't any others, but he could have been lying."

Indis smiled. "There's a spell for that, remember? I taught you," she said with a laugh, waiting as he cast the detect life spell she had taught him a week ago, grateful that he didn't notice the small glow around her midsection. "See? No one else here. I told you that spell was useful. Let's see what's over here," Indis finished, walking through the door that two Imperial soldiers had come out when they were trying to escape Helgen.

He followed without hesitation, still unwilling to let go of her hand, wishing he could grip her tighter as he inspected the room they ended up in. It appeared to be barracks of some sort, complete with numerous beds, chests, and tables. She ran one slim finger along a shelf, rubbing off the dust that had collected before examining the various items on the shelves and the tables.

"You know, it looks like bandits never even came in here," she said curiously, breaking away from him to further investigate, finally settling down on one of the beds.

"Probably because this place is haunted by the souls of those who died that day," he replied, suppressing a shudder, walking over to join her. "It's strange to be back here. This isn't a place that I thought I'd ever visit again."

"Me either," she remarked, looking up at him. "Strange to think that this is where it all began. To think, I almost went with that Imperial soldier. I would have, too, if it wasn't for that damn dragon landing and blocking my way," she joked, playfully nudging him, trying to draw him out of his solemn silence.

"Ever think that we met for a reason?" he asked quietly, moving closer to her, taking her hand once again.

She furrowed her brow, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Like fate?"

"Something like that," Ralof whispered, awkwardly cupping her cheek with one hand, wishing he could will his fingers to bend again. She hadn't moved away, she hadn't told him to stop, and he took that as a sign to continue, leaning down to press his lips against hers.

* * *

Indis lay awake, listening to the sound of Ralof's hearty snore and the dull drip of water in the keep, wishing the guilty churning in her stomach would vanish. She had given in to Ralof and her own desires, pushing aside any honest intentions of being faithful to her husband. If she was being honest with herself, this love making session with Ralof had been more earnest, passionate, and soul-baring than anything she had done with Teldryn or Balgruuf, and it had stirred something up inside, making her slightly doubt her previous belief that she was no longer in love with him. She shook it off as she slipped out of his arms, hoping he didn't wake, reaching for her armor. Indis had just finished working with the last buckles on her armor when she heard a sleepy voice behind her.

"What are you doing? Come back."

She took a deep breath and turned around, shaking her head. "Ralof, no. I can't. I…we shouldn't have done that. That was a mistake. It was wrong," she insisted, standing up and backing away from the bed.

"It didn't feel wrong," he said with a frown, pulling his robes over his head, flattening the wrinkles as he walked over to her. "It felt right."

"No, Ralof. I'm married, I shouldn't have done that."

"I know, and I think that…I think that you should come with me now. I'm leaving for Winterhold soon. Come with me," he pleaded, clumsily grabbing her hands. "We can go to the college together, you and I, the way it's supposed to be."

"I'm not leaving Teldryn," she said sternly, jerking away from him. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm going now."

He grabbed at her arm again, and she turned to fix him with a glare, wishing that he would just drop it, that he would accept that this was wrong, and leave her be. "What? I have to go."

"Why do you insist on staying with him?" Ralof asked, his voice leaving behind a soft, faint haunting echo as it resounded off the stone walls of the keep. "Us, Indis. It was supposed to be us."

"Because I love him. I actually do. He's good to me, far better than you were when we were together, despite how positively horrid I've been to him," she said, voice thick with remorse, taking a deep breath before she continued. "And I'm…I'm pregnant. I'm not going to leave the father of my children."

Ralof froze, staring at her silently, his chest heaving up and down, a small muscle in his jaw periodically twitching. "No, no you're not. You're lying."

"I am. Feel free to ask Hilde in Riverwood."

"That," he spat, closing the distance between them. "That was supposed to be us. You were supposed to marry _me_, have children with _me_."

Indis shook her head, pushing him away, ignoring the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "If we were supposed to be together, we would be. We're not. This was a mistake. You were a mistake."

* * *

Vex took a huge sip of her mead, setting the bottle back down on the table before turning to Arwyn, who she had come to be rather close with during the past few months. "The Guildmaster is back, and after telling her how impressive you've been, she's ready to meet you."

"Really?" the raven-haired Imperial asked with a smile, her face breaking into a wide grin. "Is she in the Cistern?"

"I think so," Vex replied with a shrug. "I'd go meet her. She'll be in there somewhere."

* * *

Brynjolf leaned against the wall, sighing with relief with Vipir finally decided that his archery session in the practice room was finally over. After he was satisfied that they were alone, he turned to Indis, moving slightly closer. "I think we're alone now."

"Well, obviously," she whispered back, rolling her eyes. "Now, what did you want to talk about? Any news of Mercer?"

Brynjolf ran his fingers through his thick, red locks, shaking his head no. "No news yet, and as per your request, I've kept his return between you, me and Karliah. We're the only ones who know."

"Good. Do you think any of these new recruits are working with him?" she asked nervously, thinking back to all of the strangers that she saw in the Guild, all of whom had flocked to the Ragged Flagon after the Guild's fortune had turned around.

"See, I'm not certain. Any of them could be. Which is why it was wise to keep it between us. I'm hoping that this silence means that Mercer is keeping to himself, and he's not going to try to come after anyone. That's the best case scenario at this point, and it's the one I'm hoping for."

"We can only hope," she sighed, resting her head on the wall behind her. "By the way, I'm going to need you to run things for a while. I'll be away, again. This time for much longer."

"Something wrong?" he asked, concern flooding his voice. "Everything alright?"

"It's fine. Actually, better than fine. I'm pregnant!" she said, feeling genuinely excited for the first time since she had gotten the news.

"Well, I'll be damned! Congratulations, lass!" he said in an enthusiastic whisper, sweeping her up into a tight hug. "You'll be naming it after me, correct?"

Indis laughed, giving him a tiny jab in the ribs. "Not on your life, Bryn," she said, looking up, surprised to see the young woman she had recruited in Whiterun, standing there watching them with wide, curious eyes. Indis and Brynjolf quickly stepped apart, and she walked over to the woman, placing one hand on her shoulder. "Ahh, glad to see you're the one Vex has told me so much about! Arwyn, correct? How about you go wait in the Flagon while I finish up with Brynjolf?"

* * *

"That was fast. Go well?" Vex asked, surprised to see Arwyn return so soon.

"It was…odd. I found her in the practice room with Brynjolf, and when I came in, they were holding onto each other, speaking quietly in whispers, and they seem surprised and embarrassed to be caught," Arwyn said with a shrug, reclaiming her seat. "I didn't know she and Brynjolf were together."

"Neither did I. Dammit, it looks like I owe Delvin some gold now. Did you overhear what they were saying?" Vex asked, leaning forward, hoping that Arwyn overhead some sweet, dirty nothings. "Any idea of what they were doing, or what was going on?"

"No, not a thing. I haven't the faintest idea of what's going on."

* * *

Indis had confessed her wrongdoing with Ralof to Teldryn immediately after she had returned home to Lakeview Manor, and after over a week of stony, frigid silence from Teldryn, he had begun to speak to her again, mainly to complain in short, terse sentences about how cold and absolutely miserable Windhelm was. Currently, they were inside their room in the Candlehearth Inn, and Teldryn had opted to stay there instead of go with her to meet the Jarl. Indis smoothed down her dress, tugging at the sleeves awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable in the thin cloth of the gown. She frowned at her reflection, running her fingers through her wild, mussed hair, failing to get it to lie flat. After she was somewhat satisfied with her appearance, she turned to Teldryn.

"Where is my bow?"

He looked up from the book he was reading, red eyes watching her. "Your bow? You're just meeting with a Jarl. What do you need a bow for?"

She shrugged, digging through the massive pile of belongings they had piled in one corner. "I don't know, I just feel…I just feel better if I have a weapon on me," she replied, placing the bow on her back once she had located it, removing it almost immediately. "No, that looks stupid. That won't work."

"Then take a dagger if you think it's absolutely necessary to be armed," he mumbled, flipping another page.

"Fine, I will. I'll be back later. Wish me luck," Indis said, grabbing her Elven dagger and placing it on her hip. She leaned down to kiss him goodbye, before setting out to the Palace of the Kings to answer Jarl Ulfric's summons.

* * *

**Finally after a really long delay, another chapter! Lots of drama with our mama to be, and there's plenty more to come. **

**As far as updates go, they will be pretty sporadic and rare until I'm done with my coursework for the semester. I have several presentations and final projects due in the next few weeks, and while I might be able to get another chapter or two up, I'm going to put this on hiatus until the beginning of May. **

**Much love to you all, and as always, thanks a million for all of the reads, follows, favorites, and reviews!**


	7. Chess Gone Wrong

Ulfric Stormcloak inspected the small, incredibly unimpressive, somewhat familiar woman standing nervously in front of him, scarcely able to believe that she was supposed to be the Dragonborn of legend, the great Nordic hero. His sources had given him plenty of information on her, and her demeanor thus far seemed to fit what he had learned, and he relaxed slightly, feeling relieved that winning her favor may be easier than he thought.

"I, err, received your summons," she began awkwardly, fidgeting as she adjusted the sleeves of her dress, raising a hand to attempt to smooth down her hair. "My name is Indis Mero."

"Ahh, yes. I'm glad to see that you received my message, and have chosen to come here to Windhelm. I believe you've already met my second in command, Galmar Stone-Fist?" he asked, gesturing to the massive, bear-like Nord beside him.

"Yes, I have, a few times, in fact. It's been a pleasure," she added, warily watching the both of them, doing her best to keep her wits about her as Balgruuf advised. "What is it that you ask of me, Jarl Ulfric?"

He rose from his throne, slowly descending the short set of stairs at the bottom before making his way over to her, offering Indis his arm, which she accepted after a short amount of hesitation. "I only wished to speak of High Hrothgar, and get to better know you, Dragonborn. I will admit, I was surprised to learn from Galmar that Skyrim's hero was such a lovely young woman," he finished, pulling out a seat at the table he had led her to.

_Flattery, he's just laying it on a bit thick, Indis. Don't let it go to your head. Balgruuf warned you about this._ "Oh, thank you," she mumbled, uncertain of what else she should say.

"I believe Galmar mentioned he knew your husband previously?" Ulfric began, looking at her inquisitively, pouring himself a large goblet of spiced wine. "Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but I believe I know you from elsewhere."

"Yes, Galmar hired Teldryn quite a while ago, travelled with him a bit. And yes, we've actually met before. I was at Helgen as well. I escaped with Ralof."

"Were you now? Oh, that's right. I remember you now, riding in the same cart as me, destined for the chopping block. Seems we're all branded criminals these days," he sighed, staring into the dark liquid. "I'm glad to know that you, the Dragonborn, made it out of there alive. It's a shame that Ralof fell to those damn elves, he was a good man and a good soldier. But your husband…he's Dunmer?" he asked, his deep voice tinged with the faintest hint of disdain and disapproval.

Indis nodded, choosing to ignore his reaction to her husband's race, additionally electing not to tell him that Ralof was actually alive, and now living in Riverwood. "He is. I met him on Solstheim, and we married after he came to Skyrim with me," Indis said, once again selecting to leave out details, in particular, those pertaining to her Daedric wedding. "You said you wished to speak of High Hrothgar?"

"Aye, I did. I studied with the Greybeards in my youth, to learn the way of the Voice. Have you answered their calling yet?"

She shook her head, readying herself to be berated once again for avoiding the summons to High Hrothgar. "No, I haven't. I'm going to get to it soon, though," she lied, poking at the rich soup in front of her.

"Fear not, they'll wait as long as need be. There is much going on in Skyrim, and it is understandable if there are other duties calling your attention away. I wouldn't be surprised if they're oblivious to what is happening in the world around them."

"Oh," she sighed, beginning to feel slightly less guilty about postponing her trip. "You said you learned to use the Thu'um? I heard that you used it against High King Torygg," Indis finished, covering her mouth after she had finished, wishing that she hadn't brought up the one thing that Balgruuf specifically advised her _not_ to. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned that…"

He waved a hand dismissively at her, speaking after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "I suppose you've heard the gossip that I murdered the High King with my Voice? That I shouted him to pieces? That I ripped him asunder?" he remarked bitterly, exhaling loudly. "I challenged his right to rule by combat. True, I used a Shout, but it was my sword that ended his life. I fought him with honor."

Indis gnawed at her lip, truly wishing that she hadn't broached the topic, staring at him with wide eyes. _He used the Voice on a man, and then slaughtered him when he was downed, in what he believes was an honorable duel? _

Ulfric spoke again after a few seconds, failing to be unnerved by her awkward silence and uncomfortable stare. "Enough of that. Tell me more about yourself, Dragonborn."

* * *

"More wine?" he inquired, gesturing to the newly opened bottle beside him. Ulfric had asked her if she would like to retire to his private chambers for a game of chess, and in her warm, pleasant, tipsy state, Indis hadn't stopped to consider that this might not be the best idea.

"Thank you," she said, lilting voice sounding fuzzy to her own ears, accepting the goblet from him, jerking her hand back quickly as their fingers brushed against each other, accidentally knocking over one of her pawns in the process. She quickly righted the piece to its prior position before making her next move. "You're quite good at this game, Jarl Ulfric," she finished, letting out a small, unintentionally flirtatious giggle.

"As are you. Please, I asked you to call me Ulfric," he replied, making his final move. "Checkmate."

Indis looked up at him from the board, shocked that the game had come to an end so quickly. "I ought to be going. I have a long journey tomorrow," she sighed, rising from her chair, head swimming as she stumbled slightly, surprised that he was able to stand so quickly and steady her with strong hands.

"The hour isn't late at all," he began, moving uncomfortably, breathtakingly close to her. "You are more than welcome to stay as long as you wish, and I would ask that you do so. I was enjoying our discussions of High Hrothgar."

"I should…I should be leaving," she mumbled, worried by the strange, unsettling stirring she felt inside, something that was telling her to leave as quickly as she could. Indis knew the intelligent thing would be to leave, to journey back through the cold, frozen streets of Windhelm to her warm room at the Candlehearth Inn that she was sharing with Teldryn, to end this evening with Ulfric Stormcloak right this instant; but for some reason, Indis found the tiniest part of herself wanting to please this charming man in front of her and she found herself wanting to make him like her. However, she shook her head quickly, doing her best to shake off the effects of his fascinating demeanor. "I'll be taking my leave," Indis finished, making to sweep past him, but instead was stopped by his strong grip on her arm and his low, deep voice as he spoke.

"Come now. You've been a tease all evening, practically begging me to take you to bed."

Indis gasped with indignation, eyes flashing with fury as she attempted to twist away, feeling herself sober up incredibly quickly. "I have not! I'm not going to sleep with you, and I have no desire to do so. I'm married."

He laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle, as his large hand closed around her small wrist even tighter. "Does that truly matter to you? Were you not married when you lay with Balgruuf? Come, now."

"Stop it, let me go," she hissed as angry, frightened tears welled up in her eyes, unsuccessfully attempting to pull away, her free hand frantically clutching the hilt at her waist. "Let me go. Let me go. Now."

"No," Ulfric said simply, his vice-like grip on her arm beginning to bruise the tender flesh beneath. "Now, if you'll simply just stay a while, I know…" he began, abruptly cut off as a small Elven dagger rapidly slashed across his left eye. He immediately let go of her, clutching at his face, blood oozing in between his fingers, running down his cheek.

She stared at him wide-eyed, knuckles turning white from gripping the tiny weapon so hard, heart thudding maniacally against her ribcage. After a few seconds of staring at the bleeding jarl, she tossed the weapon aside and it hit the floor with a loud clatter, whispering one last thing to him. "I said no, Ulfric Stormcloak. You…you should have listened."

Indis pushed past Ulfric, ignoring his grunts of pains, the curses targeted at her, and sprinted down the narrow hallway, finding herself in the now empty war room. She stopped briefly to catch her breath, ready to take off again when a stack of documents caught the corner of her eye. Still gasping for air, she cast one last look over her shoulder, inspecting the important, confidential papers at hand before quickly snatching them off the table. Indis tucked the stack of papers under her arm and took off again, fleeing from the Palace of the Kings as quickly as her feet would carry her.

* * *

Indis burst into their room at the Candlehearth Inn, still clutching the stack of papers to her chest, gasping for air as she leaned against the doorframe. Teldryn looked up at her in surprise, eyes watching her curiously.

"We need to leave, now," she finally said, still struggling to catch her breath as she began jamming their belongings into the satchels and knapsacks they had brought along, working as quickly as she could.

"Indis, it's the middle of the night," he replied with irritation, snapping his book shut. "Why is it absolutely necessary that we go now?"

She hoisted a large bag onto her back, wringing her hands anxiously as she turned towards him. "I…I can explain later, but we just need to go. Please, Teldryn," Indis continued, her anxious tone and cracking voice beginning to worry her husband.

"Fine," he sighed, throwing the other pack over his shoulder, following her as she hurried down the hallway of the inn and swiftly stepped out into the night, breaking into a light jog to catch up with her as she passed through the gates of the city. "Are we going to take a carriage?" he asked as they neared the stable, hand reaching for his coin purse.

"No, we're not," she whispered, glancing quickly over her shoulder to ensure that none of the stable hands were nearby before untying and grabbing the reins of a pair of horses. "This will be faster. Yes, I know, it's stealing, and if we get caught, I'll take the fall," she said, mounting the horse, waiting for him to do the same, digging her heels into the animal's side to spur it into a gallop, Teldryn following her close behind.

* * *

They rode relentlessly for about an hour, and Indis finally steered her mare off of the main road onto a small mountain path that had likely been beaten down by the elk that lived in the area, continuing towards a small overhang where she quickly dismounted her horse. She tied her horse to a nearby branch, brushing the dust off of her now filthy dress with a sigh before sitting down on a felled tree that was close by.

Teldryn followed suit, walking over to sit next to her. "We need to talk, about all kinds of things. Although I am curious as to why we you insisted we run off into the night as if Mehrunes Dagon himself was coming, I want to talk about us first. Your infidelity, specifically."

"Tel, you're too good for me. I don't deserve you. I'm absolutely horrible. I'd understand if you just left once we got back to Whiterun or Falkreath. In fact, you'd probably be better off if you did," she said, cut off by a small, choking sob.

He sighed, running his hand down his face in exasperation. "I'm not going to leave you, muthsera. I'm not going to be the wretched ass who abandons his pregnant wife, but," he said sternly, turning her head so that he could look into her eyes. "I…I don't know how much more of this I can take. Do you not want this? Am I not giving you what you want?"

"Tel, no! It's not that…" she trailed off, grabbing his arm. "I do love you. I do."

"Then what is it about him? Do you still love him?" he asked, his voice even more hoarse and raspy than usual.

"I…I think a part of me always will in a way, he was my first love, but I don't want to be with him. I want to be with you, and I mean that. Which is why I'm done with Ralof. I'm not going to see him again."

"Do you mean this? Don't lie if you don't. I can always tell when you're lying," he said, looking into her eyes, searching for the faintest trace of dishonesty. "You're surprisingly terrible at it."

"I mean it, Tel. I do," she whispered, clutching at his shirt. "I love you."

After a few seconds of watching her, he spoke after he was satisfied that she was telling the truth. "You and I are going to have to work on this, but I'm willing to put in the effort if you are. No more second chances, Indis. This is the last one. I'm your husband, and you'll be faithful to me, and only to me. Understood?"

She nodded frantically, wiping away a few stray tears that had run down her cheeks. "Understood. I'll do anything. I want to make this right, I do. I love you, and I meant that. I'm not going to fuck up again," she said with determination.

"Good, I mean it. I love you too, muthsera. Now, what happened in Windhelm? I'm assuming it must have been something serious."

Indis stood up, staring at the aurora in the sky for a few seconds before she started pacing nervously. "I…I kind of attacked the Jarl."

His head jerked up, and he started at her in disbelief. "Define 'attacked'. What happened?"

"We played a game of chess, and after it was done, I wanted to leave, I kept trying to leave Tel, I really did, but he wouldn't let me go," she whispered nervously, as she looked over a shoulder, as though she was fearful Ulfric would jump out from behind a nearby shrub any minute. Indis lifted the sleeve of her dress, pointing to the place where he had held on so tight, where the skin was now beginning to bruise. "He was such an ass, Tel. I kept asking him to let me go, to just let me leave, but he refused, saying that I had been a tease, and that he knew I wanted to fuck him."

Teldryn watched quietly as she continued pacing back and forth, beginning to roil with anger, hoping this wouldn't end how he dreaded it would. "And then…?"

"Tel, I thought he was going to…I thought he was going to force himself on me. I was so scared, I was so drunk, I just panicked and I grabbed my dagger and just…I tried to stab him. In the face."

His mouth fell open in shock, and he stared at her with his mouth agape for a few seconds before he finally pulled himself together, shaking his head in utter disbelief. "You stabbed Ulfric Stormcloak…in the face. This won't end well, muthsera…"

"I know, I know. Which is why I think I should lie low for a while. I think I'm going to go to Castle Volkihar. It's far enough from Eastmarch, but first, I need to make a stop in Solitude to see General Tullius."

"What do you need to see him for?"

Indis knelt down next to one of their satchels, standing up again once she had located the documents and letters she had filched from the Palace of the Kings. "I need to see General Tullius, because as I was running away from Ulfric, after I…well, you know, I grabbed all of this from the Stormcloak war room," she said, handing over the stack to him.

Teldryn flipped through the stack of papers, sucking in air through gritted teeth as he skimmed their contents, handing them back to her after a few minutes. "This just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? Well, you're definitely going to be in even more trouble now. Castle Volkihar, did you say? We can stop and get Aventus, along with all of those damn spiders that he refuses to set out into the wild, on our way to Solitude."

"You're coming with me?"

"You sound surprised. Yes, of course I'm coming with you. Being together is somewhat necessary if we're going to make this work. We need to get our rest, especially you. We'll ride out at dawn, and we can take care to avoid the main roads until we're far from Eastmarch."

"I still think you're too good to put up with all of my horrible shit," she sighed, leaning back against him. "But I'll admit, I'm glad you're going to be with me. I love you, Tel. Now come here, I'm cold," Indis whispered, moving closer to him, drifting off into a restless, troubled sleep.

* * *

General Tullius looked up from the letter he was writing, startled to see a young, dusty, travel-worn woman standing above his desk. He set down his quill, watching her with curiosity, waiting for her to speak. She carelessly tossed a large pile of letters and documents towards him, watching as the papers fluttered downwards before settling on the surface in front of him, turning to leave after she had whispered one, quiet sentence.

"I think these might be of some use to you."

* * *

**Ulfric, that ain't smart. Don't mess with a crazy, hormonal Dragonborn. It won't end well. Okay, I mean it this time when I say that the hiatus has started! Next chapter is going to be pretty long, and will cover a time span of about 2 years. Stay tuned!**


	8. Hold Steady Over the Coming Months

**I know I said no more updates until May, but I was having a crappy week and felt like taking today off from work, so I decide to go ahead and write this chapter! :)**

* * *

Ulfric sat on the small chair in Wuunferth the Unliving's chambers, watching as his court mage flittered about the room, inspecting shelves and cabinets for what he would need. Up until this point, he had little need for the mage or his services, and typically left the elderly man to his own devices. However, after the Dragonborn had attacked him, he had been forced to seek Wuunferth's aid.

"Now let's see here," Wuunferth said, undoing the linen wrappings that had covered Ulfric's eye. "Hmm…the salve prevented infection, it looks like. There is a nice, big scar though. Can you see out of that eye?"

Ulfric shook his head, letting out a groan as he inspected himself in the nearby mirror, taking in the long scar that went across his left eye and down his cheek. He covered the eye that hadn't been attacked, cursing Indis' name when he was met with white, blurred fuzziness. "Is there anything that can be done for it?" he asked, his voice grim, wishing that his mage had been skilled with Restoration magic.

Wuunferth shook his head. "Perhaps if someone as gifted as Colette Marence got to you immediately after the injury occurred; however, the eye is such a frail, fragile part of the body, it's quite likely it still could have not been saved."

The Jarl gave him a small, terse nod as he exited the man's chambers, making his way back towards the war room, where he was hoping he would find Galmar. It was time to find the Dragonborn.

* * *

The General flipped through the pages that had been tossed on his desk, letting out an appreciative whistle once he realized what had just been literally handed to him. There were Stormcloak plans, correspondences, maps of their camps…it was an Imperial dream come true. Tullius snapped out of his stupor and pushed his chair back, running through the doorway of the room he had been in, catching up with the young woman who had just given him the papers.

"Wait!" he said, grabbing onto her arm. "Where…where did you get these?"

She turned, stopping to face him with a small, wry smile. "Well, I just walked into the Palace of the Kings and asked Ulfric Stormcloak if I could have them."

"What? Really?"

"No, not really. That was a joke. It was just a bit of humor. I stole them, of course. You're welcome," she replied, shaking her head in slight disbelief.

"Thank you. This information will be of great help. You're not one of my soldiers, are you?" Tullius asked, looking at her curiously. "You do seem to be quite familiar, though."

"I was at Helgen," she said quietly, crossing her arms as she turned around to fully face him. "I do hope you won't try and chop off my head again. As far as your other question goes, no, I'm not actually a member of the Legion, although I am hoping to join someday."

Tullius furrowed his brow, tucking the papers under his arm. "Helgen? Oh, I remember you. The little frightened Imperial in rags. Glad to see you made it out alive. The Legion could definitely use someone with your…skills. Why not join now?"

She gave a small smile as she placed a small hand on her stomach. "I don't think a pregnant soldier would be of much use to you, unfortunately. I do hope that information helps, though. I hope to be back to join soon, though."

"Well, then. Congratulations, and I hope to see you soon," he called out, watching her as she walked away. "One last thing, though. What's your name?"

"Indis Mero."

* * *

Proventus Avenicci and Irileth meandered up to Jarl Balgruuf, who was sitting in his throne with his typical disinterested slouch, looking between him and each other with looks that could only be described as positively gleeful.

"What are you two fools so damned happy about? You've both been skulking about like overjoyed morons all morning," Balgruuf growled with irritation, annoyed by his earlier meeting with Nazeem.

Proventus gave a small, tiny giggle, and Irileth's smirk grew even wider before she spoke. "Did you hear the news of Ulfric, my lord?"

"No, what of the man?" Balgruuf spat, even more annoyed now that Ulfric Stormcloak had been brought into the picture.

"Well," Proventus began. "Seems he was attacked by a young woman that he was meeting with, an Imperial we all are quite familiar with, when he took her back to his chambers, hoping to get to…know her better. Lost his eye."

Balgruuf let out a frustrated sigh, his annoyance now turning to worry, knowing that Ulfric wouldn't be one to easily forgive her for this. "Dammit, Indis."

* * *

Indis let herself fall backwards into their bed in the Winking Skeever, sighing with pleasure as the soft, puffy, sheets and pillows enveloped her.

"How did your meeting with Tullius go?" Teldryn asked, lying down next to her.

"It went fine. He was quite happy with all of the information I gave him, I think it will help the Legion quite a bit. Is Aventus in the room next to us? How much extra did it cost because of those stupid spiders?"

"It cost 100 gold for that one room," he replied with an irritated sigh, choosing to not tell her that was actually the price he had haggled with Corpulus Vinius over for what seemed like an age. Initially, the man had demanded 500 Septims. "I don't see why every single damned spider had to come along. By the way, a message from Galmar Stone-Fist came while you were at Castle Dour."

Indis sat up, turning to look at him with surprise. "Really now? What did it say?"

"Thanks to your little knife-wielding panic attack, Ulfric Stormcloak lost an eye, and if you're a smart woman, you'll stay away from Eastmarch for a while. Now, we should get some rest. We have to find a boat tomorrow morning that will not only take us to a castle filled with vampires, but can be convinced to take some armored spiders along for the ride."

* * *

The Breton crossed the room to take a seat in a large chair in the corner of the room, propping his worn booted feet up on the nearby table, watching his former comrade and her husband sleep. Mercer drew his dagger with a sigh, twirling it around in his fingers, brow furrowing as he carefully debated killing the man as well. It had taken him a while to catch up with her, given that she was either on the move or sequestered away in the Ratways with the rest of the frightened Guild, but he had been fortunate enough to find her in a particularly vulnerable position here in Solitude.

Mercer stood up, crossing the room towards the bed, stopping as a small piece of paper lying on the end table on her side of the bed caught his eye. He picked it up, raising an eyebrow as he read over the contents, setting the tea recipe to aid through pregnancy back down with a grunt. He leaned down, using his dagger to flick away a strand of hair that had fallen into Indis' face, moving his face closer, his lips brushing gently against hers as he whispered two, simple words.

"Soon enough."

He had dealt with the potential for destruction for almost three decades. He could deal with it for a little longer.

* * *

Indis had anticipated a great difficulty in finding a boat that would take her and her odd ensemble to Castle Volkihar, but she found that after she had tossed a particularly large coin purse at an older boat owner as she batted her eyelashes a bit, the boatman was more than willing to cooperate. The journey had taken about half a day, and he even took them directly to the island that the castle was on, instead of dropping them off at the jetty directly across.

Once he had learned that they were going to a castle filled with vampires, Aventus had spent the entire boat trip moving back and forth across the small vessel in excitement and anticipation, and once they had arrived, he quickly disembarked and sprinted off towards the entrance, his arachnid companions skittering rapidly after him.

Teldryn and Indis eventually caught up to him, finding him leaning against the barred entrance, arguing with Celann. He turned angrily towards his parents, eyes flashing with indignation. "Ma! Pa! He won't let me in!" Aventus spat, tiny, short arms swatting at the Breton on the other side.

"Indis, Teldryn! It's good to see you both again. How is your friend doing that you brought here?" Celann asked, reaching for the keys he needed to unlock the gate. "Is this kid with you?"

"He is," Teldryn said with an exasperated sigh, placing his hands on Aventus' shoulders as he pulled the boy away from Celann. "Her friend is doing fine. He's back home, away where he belongs."

Celann smiled, pulling the gate open. "Come on in, everyone's going to be excited to see you! Isran will especially be glad. More issues with vampires that he's probably going to want to discuss with you, both of you. By the way, what's with the spiders?"

* * *

Celann hadn't been lying when he told them that everyone would be excited to see them, but he hadn't told them just how excited they would all be. Nervous Agmaer, who was still somehow alive after facing vampires, grabbed both of them and pulled them into a crushing hug, enthusiastically catching them up on Dawnguard business. Sorine was more reserved, giving them both warm smiles, and after she mentioned that she had more weapons to work on, she took her leave. Even cold, reserved Valerica seemed pleased to see them, excusing herself after she mentioned that she couldn't leave her poisons she was brewing unattended for much longer. Aventus scampered after her happily, begging her to teach him how to become an alchemist.

"Gunmar is probably down by the forge, along with Balimund. I know they'll want to see you, but then you should probably find Serana and Isran. They're usually out in the courtyard together," Agmaer said as he steered Teldryn away towards one of the long tables in the main hall, pointing the Dunmer towards the large barrels of mead.

Indis raised an eyebrow at the mention of Serana and Isran spending time together, giving him a smile and nod as she set off to the forge.

* * *

Isran shivered from the cold, blistering gust that had just swept down over the courtyard, instinctively moving closer to Serana, who linked her arm through his. "It's damn cold here," he complained, scowling as a snowflake made contact with his eye, reaching upward to rub furiously at it.

"Nobody is making you stay here. Gunmar seems to have things well under control here, and he doesn't mind the cold at all," she replied, adjusting one of the braids in her hair. "In fact, I think everyone is beginning to wonder why you've stayed here as long as you have, and why you haven't gone back to Fort Dawnguard. The Rift is much warmer, after all."

"I know," he grumbled. "You could come with me."

Serana laughed. "All that sunshine? It isn't exactly good for my skin, if you catch my meaning."

"Fine. Looks like I'll be staying here a little longer after all," he said, trying, and failing, to ignore the large, thick snowflakes which had begun to fall in abundance, leaning closer to her. She gave a small smile as she turned her face towards his, and their lips were close to making contact when the moment was broken by someone behind them clearing their throat.

"Well," Indis began, eyes widening. "This is a very interesting, and quite unexpected development."

"Indis!" Serana called out with a smile, ignoring Isran's irritated glare as she scooted away from him on the icy stone bench. "What are you doing here? Not that we're not happy to see you, right Isran?" she asked with a pause, looking at the Redguard who gave a grunt and a tiny nod before standing.

"What are you doing here? Ready to hunt some vampires? We've got some feral ones in caves nearby causing some trouble," he asked.

Indis took his spot on the bench, setting down her pack on the frozen earth. "Perhaps. As to why I'm here…do both of you have some spare time? This might take a while."

* * *

They had been welcomed to stay at Castle Volkihar as long as they wanted, and had settled down in chambers in the eastern wing of the castle. A few weeks had passed, and Teldryn had made use of his time by journeying out with the Dawnguard to perform various tasks, and Aventus spent most of his time pestering Valerica, who seemed to have an infinite amount of patience and took to teaching him alchemy. Indis stayed behind, often wandering aimlessly through the castle to pass the time, since Teldryn had refused to let her come along on anything out of fear for her safety. She closed her book as she got up out of her chair, making her way towards Teldryn, who was taking a nap.

"Wake up, we need to talk."

He opened his eyes blearily. "What is it?" he grumbled, rolling back away from her, stuffing his face down in the pillow.

"I think it's time we told Aventus," she said quietly, lying down next to him.

At these words, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, letting out a sigh. "I suppose you're right," he admitted. "He's going to find out sooner or later. Where is he now?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted as the door to their bedroom flung open and the topic of their conversation bounded into the room excitedly. He stopped by Teldryn, proudly holding a bottle out to the elf. "Look, I made you something!"

Teldryn took the bottle, and tilted his head slightly as he inspected it. "You really need to learn to knock before you enter a room. What is it?"

"A deadly poison," Aventus replied with a low, dramatic whisper. "Use it to kill your enemies!"

"Err, thank you," Teldryn replied, gingerly setting the bottle down on the table next to him, worrying that Aventus was growing ever stranger. "I'll be sure to use it. I appreciate it, Aventus. Actually, it's good that you're here. We had something we needed to discuss with you."

Aventus crawled up onto the bed and sat between them, looking at them both expectantly, waiting for one of them to speak.

"You," Indis began, trying to muster up all the enthusiasm that she could. "…Are going to be a brother! How do you feel about having some siblings?"

Aventus' eyes widened in excitement, and a huge grin crossed his face. "What?! Is Potato pregnant again?"

"Wait, what? Potato?" Indis replied with a laugh, shaking her head. "No, I am! With twins."

At these words, Aventus' face fell, and a dark, glowering frown developed. "I don't want any brothers or sisters! It was supposed to just be me! Why did you do this? I want more spiders, not some stupid babies," he spat angrily before rolling sideways off the bed, sprinting out of the room.

"That was not what I expected," Indis groaned, wringing her hands. "I didn't think he would react like that."

"Really? That's _exactly_ how I thought he would take it. Don't worry, he'll come around."

* * *

Jorlief gave a soft knock on the door to Ulfric's chambers, entering once the Jarl had called out for him to enter. He held the small package close to him, giving a small bow once he was standing in front of Ulfric. "This came for you earlier this morning, my lord."

Ulfric held out a hand to his steward, accepting what the man held out for him, waiting to begin opening it until Jorlief had left and closed the door behind him. He drew a dagger and quickly sliced through the string wrapped around the thick parchment, unwrapping the paper to find a note covering something up. He flipped it open, frowning as he read the short message, eyes scanning over the neat, slim writing.

_Sorry about ruining your eye. Hope this makes you look appropriately roguish and dashing._

He looked underneath the note, exhaling loudly as he picked up the small, black, leather object. It was an eye patch.

"Fucking Dragonborn."

* * *

Indis kicked off the soft, linen sheets with a sigh, irritated that she was already breaking a sweat from such light, simple bed coverings. Teldryn looked up at her from the book he had been engrossed in, taking in the sight of his very pregnant naked wife. Over the past few months, she had taken to lounging around nude in their bedroom, something that he wasn't going to complain about.

She rolled over, resting one of her hands on her chest, still trying to get used to her much larger breast size. "I want you to fuck me," she said with a sigh, looking up at him.

"You know, you don't know how to be subtle anymore," he half-heartedly chastised as he tossed the tome aside before moving towards her. Her incredibly voracious sexual appetite was something that had developed as well, and it was a side effect that made up for the louder snoring, excessive drooling while sleeping, and violent, unpredictable mood swings that he had to contend with on a daily basis.

* * *

When Aventus burst through the door to the bedroom his parents were staying in, he was not expecting to find them both unclothed, in bed, with his father behind his mother, who was leaning over the edge of the bed. After they had scrambled to cover themselves during the course of yelling at him, he had fled the scene, and was now sitting cross legged on Balimund's workbench.

"You're going to have to move, it's not a place for sittin'," the Nord vampire grumbled at him. "What happened anyway? You've been sitting over their sulkin' all quiet ever since you got here."

"Then why does it bench in the name?" Aventus mumbled, propping his chin on one balled up fist. "My parents got real mad at me."

Balimund shook his head with a small chuckle, recalling when Indis had said nearly those exact words to him, making him wonder if they weren't actually related by blood somehow. "What'd you do?"

The boy shrugged. "I went into their room, and they weren't wearin' anything, and Pa was behind Ma, and it sounded like she was hurt or somethin', but it was real strange, because it sounded like she liked it. I dunno what they were doing, but I think Pa was winning."

The blacksmith let out a huge, booming laugh as he wiped away the amused tears that had collected in the corners of his eyes. "I think you're right about that," he said with a chuckle, still trying to compose himself. "Know what else I think?"

"What?"

"I think you need to learn to knock, kid."

* * *

Ralof stacked his set of spell tomes carefully before he picked them up and set them down in the bag he had been packing. After he last saw Indis, he went to her home to apologize, to see her again, but when he arrived, he was told that she had left indefinitely. He returned to Riverwood hurt and frustrated, angry that she had left without saying goodbye to him, sulking over the coming months. He spent most of his time taking out his frustrations on the mudcrabs that lived along the banks of the river, killing them first with either sparks or flames, before raising them from the dead, often disinterestedly wandering back into the small town with an army of worthless undead behind him, unsettling the other Riverwood residents.

Gerdur had continued to watch after him, taking care of him and giving him food, gold, and shelter, despite his laziness and lack of help in regards to anything; something that had become a cause of contention and strife within the household. He had become even more anxious and distanced from his family once he realized that somewhere in Skyrim, Indis would be nearing her due date, coming closer to giving birth to children that were not his. He folded his mage's robes carefully, placing them alongside his tomes, tying his knapsack shut. Ralof slung the bag over his shoulder, ready to make the journey to Winterhold and start anew.

* * *

"Serana, Teldryn isn't here! It's not time yet," Indis protested, wringing her hands as she tried to wriggle out of the female vampire's grip. "We have to wait, he has to be here! And…and Valerica, where is she?"

Serana shook her head sternly, regaining her firm hold on the panicking pregnant woman. "Indis, you can't wait. Your water's broken, and this is happening whether you're ready or not. You can't wait for him. As far as my mother, she went into the Soul Cairn, so there's not a chance anyone could find her in time to help with this," she continued, leading Indis to her room, gently pushing her down towards the bed. "I'll go get Isran. He said he had experience with this kind of thing."

Indis lay on the bed, inhaling deeply, trying to remain calm as she tapped her fingers nervously on her round, swollen stomach. She looked up when Serana returned with Isran, who pulled a chair up to the foot of the bed. "Serana said you had experience with this sort of thing."

"I do," he replied simply, removing his thick, heavy gauntlets. "I grew up on a goat farm. I've delivered plenty of them."

Indis sat up, glaring at him incredulously. "A goat farm? I am not a fucking goat," she spat, attempting to smack him.

He dodged her lazy, slow swing and gave a small shrug. "Can't be too different. I'm sure this will all turn out fine," he replied. "Now, let's see here…"

"This isn't making me feel at ease. Do _not_ look at me down there," Indis said, frustration and panic beginning to overtake her as she grabbed onto Serana's arm. "I want Teldryn to be here," she gasped, tightening her grip as a contraction rolled over her.

Isran scowled at her, laying clean, fresh linens at the foot of the bed. "I don't understand how I'm supposed to do this if I can't look. Just try and pretend that I'm not here, and Teldryn is."

Serana grimaced slightly as Indis' finger nails dug into the flesh of her arm, gritting her teeth as she spoke. "Don't worry, this will be fine. I sent Agmaer out with a message; he wasn't going too far to take Aventus hunting. I'm sure he'll get it soon, don't worry. Now, you need to concentrate. I believe you should push now?"

* * *

Hours had passed, and Indis' contractions had grown closer together, leaving her drenched in sweat, clenching the bedsheets below her as she cursed at the Redguard man by her feet. Serana had left the room, feeling uncomfortable by the temptation of the small amount of blood, leaving Indis alone with the commander of the Dawnguard.

"Keep pushing, I think you're almost there," Isran said calmly, ignoring the colorful, creative insults that the Imperial woman was launching at him. "I can see the top of the head! Push!"

Indis continued to curse and screech in pain, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead into her eyes, blurring her vision as she gave one, massive final push, sending her daughter out into the world. Isran cut the umbilical cord with his sharp dagger, looking up briefly as the door flung open, and Teldryn burst in, chest heaving as he made his way over to Indis side.

"Ahh, you've finally arrived, just in time to meet your daughter," Isran said, wiping the infant clean before swaddling her in linens and handing her to Aventus, who had followed him in after giving a long series of knocks. "We're not done yet, though. Time to get her sibling out, so keep on pushing. It shouldn't take too long, any minute now."

"Where in the fuck have you been?" gasped Indis as she grabbed Teldryn's hand, biting her lip as she gave several more large pushes, speaking over Isran, who was saying that he could already see the second child coming.

"I'm sorry, I should have been here," he replied, wincing as he felt some of his knuckles crack and pop, surprised at how hard Indis could squeeze.

"Damn right, you should have been here, this is all your fault, you ass," she groaned as she used all of the energy she had left, head flopping down on the pillow behind her, letting out a massive sigh as their son was born.

* * *

After cleaning up and a short rest, Indis was sitting in bed next to Teldryn, gently rocking their sleeping daughter, who had drifted off after feeding.

"Tel, they're perfect," she cooed, looking up at him as she rested her head on his shoulder. "They're absolutely incredible."

"They really are, aren't they? Although, I think we might be a bit biased. What should we name them? We hadn't really discussed it before," he said, his gravelly voice a soft, slow whisper.

She laughed quietly, gently reaching over to inspect the infant that he was holding. "Hmm…" Indis trailed off, wracking her brain for a few minutes before speaking. "I was thinking we should name her after Isran. After all, she wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him. I'm no goat, but things turned out fine with her, thanks to him. Israna. What do you think?"

Teldryn mulled it over quietly, looking down at her. "I think," he said with a pause as he reached over with a free hand to gently trace a finger along Israna's tiny face, giving a small smile. "That name is perfect, muthsera. I think I might have a name for our son."

"Oh, what's that?"

"I had a brother. He was much younger than me," he began, trailing off, shifting slightly so he could look down at her. "I'd like to use his name."

"I didn't know you had a brother," Indis said with surprise, weariness beginning to creep into her voice. "Where is he now?"

"I don't talk about him much," he said with a shrug. "I'm not certain where he is. He spent the first few years of his life in Blacklight, but he did not grow up there as I did. Our parents separated, and my father took him along when he moved to Skyrim, to Dawnstar to work in the mines. I visited him a few times in the Pale while he was growing up there, and I did so more after our father died, but he…" Teldryn stopped, clearing his throat, furrowing his brow as unpleasant memories surfaced. "He joined some cult when he was quite young, and pledged his life to some Daedra, not sure which one. After he became a part of that, he cut off all contact with me, whether it was by choice or by force, I'll never know. I'm not sure what became of him, or if he is still even alive. That was decades ago."

"Tel, I'm sorry, I had no idea," Indis whispered, leaning in closer to him. "What was his name?"

"Casimir. His name was Casimir."

"I like it," she said with a small smile. "In his memory."

"Israna and Casimir, it's settled then. One more thing," he asked, looking over at her. "What's this about you not being a goat?"

"I'll tell you in the morning," she mumbled with a yawn. "Right now, I'm exhausted."


	9. Divine Intervention

Almost a year and a half had passed since Israna and Casimir were born, and Indis and Teldryn had settled comfortably into life at Castle Volkihar, assisting the Dawnguard in any way that they could, spending most of their spare time with their children. The subject of leaving their island hideaway, of returning to the mainland was one that hadn't come up in months. Indis had chosen to blatantly ignore her title of Dragonborn, and whatever it required, in favor of hiding away and raising her children on an island full of vampires and vampire hunters. Currently, she was lounging in bed next to Teldryn; a very sleepy Casimir curled up on her lap and resting against her chest while she read the book _Notes of Racial Phylogeny_.

"It says here that they'll take on my race," she said curiously, one finger running along the line of text on the page. "But, they can take on physical characteristics of the father as well. I suppose that explains why Izzy looks so Dunmer. Odd that Cas only got—"

Indis was cut off as Teldryn made a grunt of pain, and she looked up from her evening reading to look up at him in concern. Israna was lying next to him, staring up at him with wide, mischievous eyes, watching as he rubbed his hand, giving a little odd giggle that turned into a snort.

"She bit you again, didn't she? I don't know what it is that's causing it, but we need to put an end to this now," Indis continued, voice taking on a stern tone as she snapped her book shut, looking over at the little girl who was furtively peeking out of the blankets at both of her parents. Israna had taken after Teldryn appearance wise, inheriting his slate grey skin, pointed ears and dark black hair, but had inherited Indis' green eyes along with many of her more distinctive, odd, personality traits.

"Look," she continued, pulling up the sleeve of Casimir's tunic, so that Teldryn could see the marks that Israna's sharp, knife-like teeth had left behind on his pale skin. Casimir looked a great deal like Imperial mother with his fair skin, freckles and auburn hair, but his bright red eyes obviously were inherited from his Dunmer father. "She's got teeth like a slaughterfish, I swear. Last week, she bit Agmaer right on his arse. He won't even look at her now, and whenever he sees her, he just turns right around. What is making her do this?"

"Ohh, I don't know," Teldryn drawled hoarsely, voice thick with sarcasm, moving his arm away to avoid getting bitten again, causing Israna to make a little frustrated growl. "Perhaps it's the fact that we're raising them in a castle full of vampires?"

"Mmm, maybe. At least Cas hasn't picked up on it," she said, reaching down to smooth his hair, thankful that he was quiet and well-behaved, given that Israna was an exhausting little terror at times.

"Not yet, but given long enough, I'm sure he will. Perhaps," he trailed off, hoping to broach the subject of leaving the island, one that he hadn't brought up in months, delicately. "We could take them back to Falkreath. We wouldn't be surrounded by vampires teaching our daughter to bite everyone she comes into contact with, and you've said you've missed the warmth."

"I have. I…I don't know, though. I think we should stay here. At least for a little while longer, don't you think?"

Teldryn sighed, reaching over to pick up the literature that she had tossed aside. That was exactly what she had said last time he had brought up the topic of leaving, and last time after he had pushed it, she had stormed off and refused to speak to him.

At this rate, they would never get back to life on the mainland.

* * *

Aventus hated the frigid, cold, wasteland that they had lived in for the past two and a half years, the reek of blood that was found in the most dank, hidden away regions of the castle, and the way that the adults there ignored him, save for his parents and Valerica, who had taken him on as an apprentice of sorts. However, there was one thing that he disliked more than anything else.

Watching over the twins.

He was almost fourteen years old, almost old enough to join the Dawnguard, or the Dark Brotherhood, or the Thieves Guild, yet he had been tasked with watching after Israna and Casimir while everyone else was out, taking care of business that was much more important than the rotten little children he had to look after.

He scowled as he watched Israna awkwardly run and blunder across the courtyard as best a small child could do, headed towards the patch of nightshade that Isran and Serana had planted recently, tiny hands grabbing at the poisonous plant, no doubt ready to stuff what she had collected into her mouth. Aventus begrudgingly got up off of the freezing bench, relieved when Potato pushed herself between Israna and the plant, preventing her from doing what he was afraid she was about to. For some reason, Potato had become somewhat of an overbearing protective nanny, watching over the twins and protecting them as best she could, something that had made Aventus much more jealous than he should have been.

Aventus sat back down, brushing a strand of brown shoulder-length out of his face, scowling as he crossed his arms, looking down when he felt a small tug at the bottom of his shirt.

"'ventush," mumbled a soft, quiet voice, and he looked down to see Casimir standing next to him, reaching up towards him with both arms. Despite his attempts to avoid them, both of the twins liked to follow him around, have him carry them, hold their hands, play games with him, even though he did nothing but glower at them. He sighed, picking the small boy up, hoisting him up so that he was sitting on his shoulders before calling out.

"C'mon Izzy, time to go inside," he shouted, holding back laughter as she tripped and fell, her face making contact with the ground. The smirk that had been ghosting across his lips was quickly replaced by a concerned frown as soon as she began to scream and wail, and shortly afterwards, Casimir began to sob as well, undone by the sight of his sister in distress.

"Gods dammit," Aventus muttered, trudging over to Israna who was shrieking even louder, causing Potato to click and hiss, his ears ringing from their hagraven-like screeches. He knelt down carefully, ensuring that Casimir wouldn't fall off of his shoulders, a simple healing spell welling up in his palms as he pressed his hands against Israna's face and hands, healing the scratches she had gotten.

"There," he said simply, tugging her to her feet, wiping away her tears with his sleeve. "You're all better now. No more crying. Let's go now."

Aventus started back towards the entrance of the castle; when he felt something grab at his leg, unsurprised to look down to see Israna looking up at him expectantly. He groaned as he picked her up, slowly walking forward, trying to maintain his balance, a difficult feat considering all of the extra weight he was now carrying.

He let out a loud, melodramatic groan as he felt Casimir begin to tug on his hair and calmly whisper what sounded like absolute gibberish in his ears, making a mental note to hide from the twins once he had successfully managed to pass them off to someone else.

* * *

_Indis brushed the hair out of her face, pausing with her hand raised by the side of her face, mind furiously working to figure out how she came to find herself in the courtyard of Castle Volkihar. She shook it off, telling herself that she obviously wasn't getting enough rest, otherwise she would remember why she was here. Standing to leave, she adjusted the Dawnguard armor that she thought she recalled removing earlier that afternoon, catching a figure standing in the distance. It was a robed man leaning on a tall staff, staring off into the Sea of Ghosts, not appearing to heed her presence at all._

"_Excuse me? I haven't seen you around the castle before," she called out as she walked over to him, curiosity drawing her closer to him, feet crunching on the frozen ground beneath her. "Do I know you?"_

_The man turned towards her, giving a small, throaty chuckle, running a hand down across his thick, brown beard. "Unbeknownst to you, yes. You know life and death all too well, Dovahkiin, and thus, you know me."_

_Indis stopped, brow creasing as she mulled over his words. "I don't understand."_

"_Come, walk with me," he said, giving a small gesture with his staff, and despite her reservations, she trotted along after him willingly. "Forgive me; I forget that you do not know me as well as others, such as Florentius. I am Arkay. I have been watching you, from your brush with death in Helgen, from your time with the Dawnguard, and your escape from your former Guildmaster's attempt on your life. Yes, you and I know each other."_

"_Wh-what do you want with me? Why are you here?" she asked, still shocked by the entire situation._

"_I am here on much more urgent, graver matters, Dovahkiin," Arkay answered, coming to a stop as he leaned against the staff he carried, fixing her with a solemn stare. "You have not heeded the call."_

"_The call?" she asked, momentarily confused as to what he could possibly be referring to. After a few moments of contemplation, the answer dawned upon her. "Oh, you must mean the Greybeards' summoning. What of it?"_

"_Have you heard the prophecy of the World-Eater, Indis?" he asked, continuing after she had shaken her head in the non-affirmative. "Long ago, Alduin, the World-Eater, was cast adrift in time, expelled from this world. It was foretold by the Elder Scrolls that he, the first born of Akatosh, would return to Nirn when the sons and daughters of Skyrim would spill their own blood, when the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, and bleeding. This is such a time now, is it not?"_

_Indis chewed her lip thoughtfully, mouth falling open after careful consideration. "The war," she gasped, heart falling. "The civil war. Kingless…Jarl Ulfric murdered the High King, and Skyrim is being torn apart by war."_

"_Yes," the god replied simply, his expression still serious. "Currently, Alduin thrives in this world and the next; passing between the two, devouring the souls of the undead, growing ever stronger as he resurrects his fellow dovah to do his bidding. The situation with the war grows ever dire. However, there is hope."_

"_Hope? What do you mean? What does all of this have to do with you?"_

"_Life and death is my business, Dovahkiin. Alduin has been defeated before, and the task must be completed again. There is hope, hope that rests with you. You are the one that must slay the World-Eater again in order to ensure the world's survival. You are the doom and death driven hero of destiny, and the time has come for you to answer the calling. You have tarried far too long."_

_Indis felt incredibly woozy and overwhelmed, stumbling backwards. "Now? I don't want to, I…I have children, I can't—"_

"_Your children will be fine, Indis. They will be in more than capable hands. Make the journey to High Hrothgar as soon as you are able, you must not wait any longer. No more time can be wasted. I know that this is not a duty you would choose, but there are times when we all must do things we have no desire to partake in. The time has come, Dovahkiin."_

* * *

Indis gasped as she sat straight up, panting heavily as she inspected her surroundings, relieved to see that she was safely tucked away in her bed, with Teldryn asleep next to her.

"Just a dream, Indis, that's all," she said out loud to herself, keeping her trembling voice to a low whisper, reaching up to nervously grasp her neck, surprised to find that she was wearing something. She lifted it over her head, and after climbing out of bed as quietly as she could, she walked over to the nearby window, inspecting the object in her hand in the pale moonlight filtering in through the window, swallowing the lump in her throat after a few long seconds.

It was an amulet of Arkay.

* * *

**Blegh, short chapter! I wanted to get something up that would transition back into the action. Sorry it's not longer, I'm just brain dead and uninspired. As always, reviews, favorites, and follows = love, cheese, and a nekkid Brynjolf for you!**

**Oh, and if you like this story, check out my most recent work in progress An Uncommon Reaction! Give it some love, and in addition to your naked Brynjolf you can have a naked Serana/Ulfric/Ralof/whoever you want.**


	10. Out of the Shadows

It had been three days since Indis' odd little dream incident, and that was exactly what she had kept telling herself it was. A dream. A very realistic, unsettling, and strange dream. Nothing more. She had even somehow managed to lie to herself about how the amulet of Arkay got around her neck, convincing herself that Florentius had given it to her, and she simply didn't remember putting it on. Indis hadn't mentioned it to Teldryn, and she had no intention of doing so.

Currently, she was leaning against one of the frigid stone walls of the castle, milling about with some of the other Dawnguard members, her thoughts flittering away to far off, distant places, occasionally nodding or giving a vague response to a question.

"You know, Indis," Florentius began, voice grabbing her attention. Indis looked up, brushing a stray strand of auburn hair out of her fair, noticing that only she and Teldryn were left standing with the odd priest. "Arkay told me that he spoke to you! It truly is remarkable to have him watching over you, is it not?"

_Motherfucker_, Indis mentally groaned, fixing Florentius with a smoldering glare. So much for keeping this from Teldryn. "I don't know what you're talking about. It must have been someone else, some other woman named Indis," she finally sniffed, pushing off of the wall. "Come on, Tel. Let's go check on—"

"Oh, no," Teldryn replied, his hoarse voice growing curious, a smug little smirk dancing across his face. "I'd like to hear more about this. Florentius, please, do go on."

The Imperial man shrugged. "There isn't much more to say about it, honestly."

"Because it's not me that you're talking about!" Indis interjected, face growing red, tiny hand forming tightly clenched fists at her sides.

Florentius sighed, adjusting his armor. "Arkay _did_ say that he was worried about you being hostile and unresponsive to his attempts to urge you to follow your duty."

"Hostile and unresponsive? I do believe that's most certainly you," Teldryn responded, furrowing his brow with a sigh when Indis stormed off. "Well, I'd better go after her."

* * *

Indis slammed the door to her bedroom shut as soon as she had passed through, flinching slightly when the loud, sharp crack left a ringing in her ears. Her angry, shaking hands set to work undoing the buckles of her Dawnguard cuirass, giving up in frustration when the simple leather straps wouldn't slide through, wishing that Florentius hadn't brought up Arkay, and hadn't confirmed that it was much more than simply a dream. The door opened slowly, quietly behind her, but she didn't notice, because a quiet voice in her head had captured all of her attention.

"_It is time to heed the call, Dragonborn."_

"Get out of my head," she whispered softly, pleading desperately, voice thick with frustration.

"What did you say?" asked a raspy, gravelly voice behind her. Indis turned to see Teldryn, watching her with a mixture of concern, confusion, and amusement.

"Nothing. I-I said get me some bread. I'm hungry," she lied as she slouched into a chair, staring in the direction of the cloudy, fogged window, wishing she could see through. She looked up at Teldryn as he returned with a plate full of bread drenched with honey and butter.

"Here," he said, setting it down on the table before her. "Your favorite."

"Yes, when I was a pregnant fat ass," she grumbled, reaching out to take a piece, taking a massive bite.

"Nothing wrong with being a bit of a fat ass," he replied, helping himself to the heaping plate as well.

"Are you saying that I'm a fat ass?"

Teldryn groaned, dragging one large hand down over his face, working to choose his next words carefully, regretting falling into that trap. "No, I'm not, and I would never. Now, care to talk about what Florentius said? I imagine you wouldn't have gotten so upset if it wasn't true."

Indis had moved onto another piece of bread, and was chewing quietly as she sat in silence for several seconds. "No, not really. Perhaps later. Just…I don't really feel like talking about it, that's all. I hope you understand," she finished, standing up to work on removing her armor, irritated to find that her hands were still slightly trembling.

"Here, allow me," Teldryn said, standing up to join her, his dark, slim fingers deftly working to undo the numerous straps and buckles adorning the cuirass, gently sliding it off of her body and tossing it aside once he had finished. He stood there briefly, watching the light from the nearby torch sconce dance across her features, taking in her worried, distant, frustrated expression, wondering if his usual method of relaxing her and getting her to talk would work. After a few seconds, he leaned down, pressing his mouth to hers, sliding his hands from their position on her shoulders downwards to her waist, slowly guiding her towards the bed in their room.

* * *

Teldryn rolled over, positioning himself above Indis before leaning down and pressing his mouth against her neck, lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. "You know, we could go again, see if we can't give Israna, Casimir, and Aventus another sibling. Who knows, perhaps this time, they might be normal. What do you say?"

She laughed, her throat creating a pleasant, buzzing vibration against his lips as she spoke. "I don't know about that, the odds aren't in our favor. However," she began, looking up at him as he pulled away, waiting for her to continue. "I think this would be a good time to talk. I think it's time to leave Castle Volkihar."

His mouth twitched, attempting to hold back the satisfied smirk that was itching to paint itself across his fair, feeling incredibly pleased that his usual method of getting her to open up worked. He climbed out of the bed, tensing up when his bare feet made contact with the icy stone of the floor, tugging a worn tunic and simple trousers on before taking a seat in a nearby chair.

"Well?" he began, propping his feet up on the short nearby table, waiting for her to continue, looking up in surprise when the door to their room opened and both Israna and Casimir ambled in, clambering up onto the bed, crawling over to join Indis.

"Tel, would you mind handing me something to cover up?" Indis asked, pulling the blankets up over her bare chest, holding one hand out. He tossed her a shirt after he had shut the door, and Indis quickly put it on.

"I don't see what you're so worried about, it's not like anyone in here hasn't seen you naked before," he said, rejoining them back on the bed.

"I know," Indis said, smoothing down Casimir's auburn hair, looking down at the little boy who had crawled up into her lap and had curled up into a tight little ball. "It's just that, after Israna bit my, well, you know…" she trailed off, thinking back to the thin, crescent shaped scar on the underside of her right breast, instinctively covering her chest.

"Now, you said you wanted to talk, and you said you think it's time to leave this place," he began, hoping he hadn't misheard her, praying to the Divines that this meant that they actually would get off this frozen, wretched island. "Does this have anything to do with what Florentius said earlier?"

"Actually, it does. This could take a while. You might want to get comfortable."

* * *

After what had seemed like an age to Indis, she had fully recounted everything about her strange dream, encounter, moment, or whatever it was exactly, with Arkay. She spared no details, and was surprised to see that he had taken it in rather well, and had a relatively calm, placid expression on his face.

"Well, I always knew you were crazy, but I never thought you were as bad as Florentius," he joked, following his words with a low, raspy chuckle.

"Teldryn, this is serious, and no, I'm not crazy," she responded indignantly, still wishing she fully believed what she had just said, fixing him with a stern glare. "I think it's time for us to go, and for me to go to High Hrothgar. He said so many things that I didn't understand, but it sounded urgent. I mean, I wouldn't have had a Divine get into my head if this didn't matter, right?"

"Probably not," Teldryn replied, the tiniest, niggling part of him wondering if she really was mad after all. _Divines don't converse with mortals, do they? _

"He mentioned something about a dragon, one called Alduin."

"Dragons," Casimir hissed, the word almost sounding like pure gibberish, looking up at Indis with wide eyes, baring his teeth at her. "Dragons!"

"Yes, love. Dragons," she replied, letting out a sigh. "He called him the World-Eater." She shivered, surprised as gooseflesh cropped up on her arms.

"The World-Eater?"

"Yes. I don't know why, but the name Alduin just…it seems so familiar, like I've heard it before. Almost like I've met him," she said, shaking her head with a laugh, finding herself thinking back to Helgen for some strange reason. "That's not possible, though. Well, at least I don't think so."

"You think it's time to go? Time for us to go to High Hrothgar?"

"Us?"

"I'm coming with you, of course. Don't worry, it shouldn't take too long. I'm sure Lydia and Stenvar wouldn't mind taking care of Izzy and Cas for a little while. Judging from their last letter, they're incredibly eager to meet them. We'll pass them off for a little while, and take a little time to ourselves while you go see these Greybeards."

"Hopefully," she finished, leaning over to give him a kiss, adjusting her arm that was falling asleep. "This will all be over after that. Then, we can get back to everything else we've had to put on hold."

* * *

A soft rap on the door from their bedroom roused them from their sleep, and Indis carefully slipped her arm out from underneath the twins, treading quietly over to the door. She opened it just a crack, peeking out.

"There's someone here to see you," Serana said, eyes sparkling. "You've got a guest. The usual one."

"Really? He's here? Tell him I'll be right out," she whispered with a smile, shutting the door once more. Indis pulled on a pair of trousers and boots, twirling her hair into a messy bun before leaving the room. She bounded down the stone steps, weaving through the narrow stone corridor, finally arriving in the large main hall of Castle Volkihar. Indis scanned the large room, breaking into a smile when her eyes spotted a set of Thieves Guild armor amongst the crowd of Dawnguard cuirasses.

"Brynjolf," Indis said warmly when she had arrived at his side, glad to see her second in command. Out of all of those that were close to her, Brynjolf was the only one to visit her with great regularity, making the voyage to the isolated northern island to update her on the Guild's happenings, get her to sign off on business, and occasionally, just simply to visit. "It's so good to see you again. What brings you here this time?"

The redhead smiled, the movement enhancing the faint crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, and he stood up to envelop her in a tight embrace. "Good to see you! How is everyone?"

"Oh, they're fine. Doing well. We're actually getting ready to head back to Skyrim, to High Hrothgar," she replied, looking down to see Israna tugging at her hands.

"'nolf," Israna said, moving over to the Nord man, fixing him with an unsettling smile. "Up."

"Finally going to answer that summonings, eh? Well, look at you," Brynjolf said, obliging Israna and picking her up, making her giggle when he took one of her tiny grey hands in his. Indis rolled her eyes, letting out a sigh, wondering what it was that women saw in him that made them swoon and giggle. He was Brynjolf, her best friend, after all.

"Look at these hands," he continued, inspecting Israna's tiny, slim fingers. "Give it a few years, and Izzy will be picking locks before you know it. Probably would be damn good at picking pockets, too."

"Don't let Teldryn hear you say that," Indis sighed, running one hand through her auburn hair. "He's already trying to get the whole Brotherhood idea out of Aventus' head, and he wouldn't be pleased to hear this talk of encouraging them to be thieves. Now, what brings you here? Something important?"

"Incredibly," he said, his face growing solemn as he lowered his voice. He set Israna down, waiting until she had scampered away to speak again. "Somewhere we can speak privately?"

Indis knew that tone, that demeanor, and it could only mean one thing. Mercer. "Of course," she said, beckoning for him to follow her, making her way up a set of steps, down another stone hallway, grabbing a torch off a sconce in the wall, finally pushing open the door to the cathedral.

"No one really comes here anymore. Not since Harkon…well, not since Harkon was killed. What is it? It's Mercer isn't it? I thought he would have been long gone," Indis continued, placing the burning torch in a rusted, iron sconce, taking a seat on a crumbling stone step, staring off at the fountain, glad that it was no longer filled with blood.

"Aye, lass. It certainly is."

"I really thought he would have been long gone by now. That he'd leave the Guild alone. What…what has he done?"

"Well," Brynjolf began, sitting down next to her, propping up his elbows on his knees, forming a tent with his fingers. "You remember Gulum-Ei, right?"

"I do. He's done a world of good as our contact associated with the East Empire Company. Why do you ask? What's happened?" she asked, looking up at him suspiciously.

"Mercer tried to kill him."

The pair fell silent after Brynjolf's announcement, the only sound in the cathedral being the whistling northern air through the jagged cracks in the stone walls of the castle. They stared off, watching as particles of dust lazily floated downwards towards the floor, passing in and out of the dim, bleary light filtering in through the dirty, dulled windows.

"What happened?" Indis finally asked, voice quiet, working hard to swallow the lump in her throat.

"I don't know. Fortunately, Cynric was taking care of a few jobs in Solitude, and he stayed there with him. The bastard tried to slit his throat, but luckily, a guard on the docks happened by. Got him to the Temple of the Divines to a healer before bled out. Apparently, he managed to get one word out to Cynric before he passed out from all the potions they gave him. Mercer's name."

"I think you and I need to go to Solitude," Indis said grimly, standing up. "Come on, we shouldn't waste any time."

* * *

Teldryn rubbed his temples wearily, flinching as another icy spray from the Sea of Ghosts hit him, splashing a fine mist all over him. It had only been two days since they had left Castle Volkihar, but it had seemed like an age. They had packed up everything they owned with great haste, booking passage on the same ship that Brynjolf had taken from Windhelm to the island. They had made a short stop at the docks in Solitude, where Indis and Brynjolf had disembarked, seeking to pursue Mercer. They had agreed to meet back in Riften in a few weeks, where she would join him after she had taken care of business.

"I'll miss you," she had said on the dark Solitude dock, leaning up to give him a kiss on the lips after she tore of her Nightingale cowl.

He hadn't been enthused by the idea of temporary separation, realizing that it would be the first time in two and a half years that they would be spending any time apart. "And I you," he replied, squeezing his arms tighter around her. "Remember what I said?"

"Don't do anything stupid," she replied, giving him one last kiss before darting after Brynjolf.

After Indis' departure, things had spiraled downwards incredibly fast. The twins hadn't understood where their mother had gone, and had quickly come undone, crying and screaming for their mother. Aventus had been perpetually irritated, angry with how loud they were. They had just docked in Dawnstar after the captain of the ship had made the call to avoid a dangerous storm that appeared to be brewing in the Sea of Ghosts.

"Come on," Teldryn grumbled, motioning for Aventus to follow him down the plank to the small, snow-dusted dock. "We'll get a room at the inn."

"I hope I don't have to stay with _them_," Aventus huffed, shooting a glare in Israna and Casimir's direction.

"You most certainly do, and you'd best not say anything else about it," Teldryn grumbled, on-edge from the difficult, straining travel. He took in his surroundings; the harsh, brisk air, the bleak despairing faces he passed, the telltale clank of pickaxe meeting stone. He had never liked Dawnstar when he came to visit his brother, and it had only appeared to get worse, the similarities to the mess of a town called Raven Rock unsettling him.

He pushed open the door to the inn, holding it open while his children passed through, finally stepping into the heady warmth of the inn. Teldryn was making his way over to the innkeeper, ready to tumble into a warm soft bed when he suddenly came to a dead stop, unable to believe what he was seeing. Standing in the center of the inn, adorned in the orange robes of a priest, appearing to be comforting a few disgruntled, distressed citizens of Dawnstar was someone he had long believed to be dead.

Casimir. His brother.


	11. Dead Eyes Watching

**WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of non-consensual sex.**

* * *

It had been the waiting that was the absolute worst, but now, after all these years, he was so close to taking what he had always desired.

After he had fled from Castle Volkihar during the siege by the Dawnguard, Orthjolf had wandered along the coastline, injured, barely hanging on, mercifully saved by a small group of vampires in a small nearby cave They had been more than eager to help him, to please him, once they had learned that he had been a member of Harkon's court. It was a court that no longer existed, all thanks to the efforts of the Dawnguard and the betrayal of Harkon's only child, Serana. It was likely that no one realized that he had escaped; otherwise, that brutal, merciless group of vampire hunters would have hunted him down the same as they had the rest of the Volkihar clan.

He had taken the vampires that had been so willing to follow him, eventually leaving the icy northern coast of Skyrim once the Dawnguard had set up a second base at his former home, a place too close for comfort, journeying southwest with his ragtag group of followers to the Reach, taking control over Blind Cliff Bastion, turning those who were in awe of his power, ready to serve, enthralling those who were less willing, creating a small army of vampiric followers. It had been years since the castle had been stormed, taken, and he had wasted no time in scheming and concocting his greatest plan yet.

"We've successfully taken control of the mine in Karthwasten, my lord," said a low, droning voice. Orthjolf looked up to make eye contact with Phinis, a young Forsworn man who had been a loyal, trustworthy servant. "With the silver from the mines, we'll be able to bring in a good deal of gold."

"Excellent," Orthjolf replied, standing up from the throne-like chair that he could often be found in, smoothing down the wrinkled leather of his red armor, slowly sauntering over towards a table covered with a row of kegs. "We're getting closer, Phinis. Soon, our kind will no longer have to contend with the blight of the Dawnguard. Have you located the woman who holds Auriel's Bow?"

The Breton's orange-red eyes widened in excitement at the prospect of fulfilling Orthjolf's plan, but he quickly frowned. "Not yet, Lord Orthjolf. We will find her, though, and then the bow will be ours. The prophec—"

"Yes, the prophecy will finally be completed. I will achieve what Harkon could not. Phinis, prepare a group to go north, send a message to the Dawnguard and the betrayers of our kind who hide amongst them. None of our finest, in the instance that they do not come back, those Dawnguard brutes can be quite a challenge," he said, twisting the small handle on the keg that allowed blood to flow forth into his goblet. "It's time to declare war."

* * *

Indis and Brynjolf stood silently on the Solitude docks, watching as the ship that had carried them to Solitude set sail once more, disappearing into the inky darkness. A gust of wind swept down, causing the lanterns above to shake and sway, an eerie dim light dancing over their features.

"Shall we? Cynric's letter said he was staying at the Winking Skeever," Brynjolf said, rubbing his hands together, trying to create a spark of warmth to drive away the chill. "You know the place?"

"Aye, I do," Indis replied, taking off after him, slowing down to an easygoing saunter once she had reached his side. "Why do you think Mercer did it? Why do you think he tried to kill Gulum-Ei?"

Brynjolf shrugged. "Beats me, lass. Who knows what's going on in that sadistic mind of his? If I had the answer, I would tell you. I just hope that stupid lizard is able to talk, clear up what happened."

They fell into an easy, comfortable silence as they slowly made their way up the steps that would take them away from the Solitude docks, stepping onto a worn, beaten path. Indis stopped suddenly, squatting down to look at a large object lying on the ground, squinting to see in the dim light cast by the lanterns. She reached out with a laugh, picking up a large, phallus-shaped object that was nestled in the weeds, holding it out to Brynjolf as she stood up.

"Look familiar, Bryn?" Indis asked teasingly, poking him in the arm with the stone item in her hand. "Remind you of Irkngthand?"

"Oh, hush," he grumbled, glancing up at what she was holding with an irritated sigh, grateful that she couldn't see the tiniest flush that was brightening his cheeks. "That was years ago, but you'll never let me live it down, will you?"

Indis rolled the item around in her hands, testing its weight before reaching over and smacking him on the bottom. "Of course not. How could I? You were begging for it, standing there all naked and—"

"Enough," he said, snatching the large stone out of her hands before flinging it as far towards the water as he could. "You are absolutely incorrigible."

She responded with a laugh, reaching up to remove her Nightingale hood, shaking her mussed hair once she had taken it off. "Yes, but that's why you love me."

If Indis had turned back after she had uttered her final, teasing sentence, she would have noticed Brynjolf's cheeks redden as he cast his eyes downward, but she continued on towards Solitude, unaware of his reaction. Instead of continuing their current conversation, he cleared his throat, choosing to take it in an entirely different direction.

"You're still with the Brotherhood, aren't you? Keep in touch with Astrid?"

Indis finally turned back towards him, cocking an eyebrow curiously as she brushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. "Yes, I am. It's been ages since I've taken a contract with them, since work with the Guild keeps me busy enough. I do visit quite frequently, though. Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking that, well…we might see about getting some help with Mercer."

She stopped suddenly, whipping back towards him with a furrowed brow. "Bryn, you know I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because," she said, wringing her hands as she took off again, shaking her head. "The Guild and the Brotherhood are on good terms, as are Astrid and I, don't get me wrong…but it's always been the norm to stay out of each other's business. Mercer? He's _our_ problem, not theirs. We can't drag them into it.

"Sorry, I know. I was just wondering if perhaps they might just keep their eyes open for him; pass along any information to us. Forget I asked," he responded, catching back up to her. "It just might be useful to have more eyes and ears out there."

"I can broach the topic with Astrid," Indis finally offered after more than a few moments of silence had passed between them. "We can stop in Falkreath and I can talk to her then. Right now, let's keep our eyes on what's in front of us."

* * *

Ralof rolled over, unsurprised to see two inquisitive, eager faces staring at him. Slowly, he sat up, adjusting his robes as he glared at them.

"What do you two want?"

"J'Zargo and I are going to skip Marance's restoration lesson and go shoot fireballs at the horkers down at the coast. Are you in?" Onmund whispered, sending a furtive glance over his shoulder as he spoke, lest one of their instructors hear. During his years at the college, Onmund and J'Zargo had become his closest friends, and the three hardly spent any time apart.

"J'Zargo knows that she will only complain. It is much more useful to practice destruction, yes? Not that you need to practice, you are better than the others. Help J'Zargo and Onmund, yes?" the cat purred, reaching one clawed finger upwards to scratch his cheek.

Ralof sighed. It was true, during most of her lessons; Colette Marance would typically get distracted, complaining that she, and her school of choice, was not taken seriously. "Alright, fine. I'm coming," Ralof replied, tugging on his boots before trailing after his friends.

"Remember when you shot two ice spikes into one's head last time, right in its eyes?" his fellow Nord asked enthusiastically, clapping on hand on his shoulder. "It just kept flopping towards us, trying to figure out where we were?"

Ralof laughed as he pushed open the door to the Hall of Attainment, shivering as a blast of icy air hit his face. "Aye, I do."

The three stopped suddenly at the sound of Mirabelle Ervine's raised; tense tone and they crouched down and crept along the wall slowly, peeking out from behind a pillar to see who was facing the small Breton woman's wrath. Standing in front of her was a tall Altmer man donning the garb of the Thalmor, scowling at her with his arms crossed. The Elf suddenly raised his head, looking in their direction, eyes boring into them.

"Come on," Ralof muttered, a chill racing down his spine. "I don't like the looks of him. Let's go."

* * *

Indis leaned against the doorframe, giving a short series of knock, waiting patiently until the door was flung wide open, and she was met with a smiling Cynric Endell. The Breton motioned for them to step inside, shutting and locking the door behind them.

"Good, you're here," Cynric said, taking a seat in a nearby chair after giving her a quick embrace, leaning back to prop up his feet on a nearby table, looking up to give Indis a smile. "Glad to see you, boss. Where are your children?" he asked curiously, looking behind her, as though they may be there. "Brynjolf's talked about how wonderful they are, so I was looking forward to meeting them."

"It's good to see you, too, Cynric. They're not here, sorry. They're with my husband," she replied, looking over at Gulum-Ei, who was lying in the bed asleep. "Perhaps another time, you'll get to meet them. They'll be in Riften soon enough. How is he?"

Cynric shrugged, glancing up at the Argonian. "About the same, I suppose. Sleeps most of the time, but he seems to be healing up nicely. He's been able to speak some more, not much, though."

Indis leaned over him, listening quietly to his labored breathing for a few seconds. "Has he said anything to you?"

"He has, actually," Cynric admitted, his face darkening. "Not much. I don't think you'll like it."

"Well, what did he say?" Brynjolf asked impatiently, beginning to tap his foot. The sooner they finished up here, the sooner they could leave Solitude. It set his nerves on edge, knowing that Mercer could still be so close by. "Out with it."

"Well," Cynric began, standing up to join them. "It took a while for him to get it out, but here's the short version. He said he had no idea about what happened with Mercer and the Guild, but he had just found out. He said he confronted him about it, and that's when Mercer tried to kill him."

Indis snorted, and Brynjolf rolled his eyes. "Sounds like a crock of shit, if you ask me," she muttered, looking up at both of them, who nodded in agreement.

"More like Gulum-Ei got in over his head, and got in too deep, same as he always has," the redheaded Nord sighed, slouching down into a chair, running one hand over his face.

Cynric nodded. "That's what I thought, too. That's why I sent the letter to you, I thought something seemed off."

"Has there been any sign of him? Of Mercer?" she asked, taking a seat next to Brynjolf, dreading what Cynric's response might be.

The Breton shook his head, and both Indis and Brynjolf let out sighs of relief. "No, nothing. Seems he's just vanished. I haven't seen any sign of him since I've been here and believe me, I've been looking."

"Well," Brynjolf began as he stood. "I'm going to go take a closer look around the docks. There are plenty of hiding places down there. It shouldn't take me too long, I'll be back soon."

* * *

"Listen, just listen," Rune insisted, kind face painted with worry, ignoring the laughs of his comrades. "All I'm saying is—"

"Is it your theory about the boss actually bein' dead again?" Thrynn snorted, lifting his tankard of ale, exchanging an amused glance with Vipir.

"All I'm saying is to just hear me out," the Imperial continued, furrowing his brow.

"What're you going on about again, lad? That nonsense about the Guildmaster actually being dead?" Delvin Mallory asked with a chuckle, clapping the young man on the shoulders. "You really should stop. 'Nough of that, now."

Vex and Arwyn looked up from the meal that they had been sharing, looking over at the group of men inquisitively. "What's this theory, Rune? We haven't heard it?" Arywn called out, a small smirk ghosting across her lips. She looked over at him, ignoring Vex's annoyed glare that was directed at everyone in the room.

"Rune here thinks that the boss is actually dead, has been for a while now, murdered by that bastard Mercer Frey, and Brynjolf has been keeping it a secret from us for years now. Isn't that right, little man?" Vipir said with a laugh, looking over at a now very embarrassed Rune. "That she didn't leave to have children, that she vanished 'cause she went and got 'erself killed off, and he's been leaving to go and hunt down Mercer 'imself."

Vex rolled her eyes, tossing her white-blonde hair to the side. "Really? That's it? That's idiotic. No offense, Rune. I think Vekel's idea that Brynjolf is really visiting his children is probably much more likely to be correct. Come on, Arwyn. Let's go to bed."

"None taken," Rune mumbled, now picking apart a stale piece of bread.

"What do you think they look like?" Arwyn said with a delicate, wistful sigh, brushing aside a strand of dark hair that had fallen into her face. "I'll bet they're beautiful, since Indis and Brynjolf are their parents."

"Probably," Thrynn muttered, immediately following his single utterance with a string of curses, having knocked over his ale. "I suppose we'll just have to wait and find out, huh?"

"Find out about what?" asked a soft, accented voice, and those seated around tables in the Ragged Flagon looked up to see Karliah, who Brynjolf left in charge during his absence, leaning against the counter of the Flagon.

"Find out whether or not Indis and Bryn had beautiful children. That is, if she wasn't murdered by Mercer," Tonilia sighed in irritation, turning back to her conversation with Vekel.

"Are you lot still going on about that? Do you know what I think?" Karliah asked, lowering her voice, watching as the Guild leaned towards her with bated breath. "I think you're all idiots, the entire lot of you. Honestly, I don't know how Indis and Brynjolf do it. Now, on to other business. Anyone want to tell me who painted nipples on the statue of Nocturnal?"

* * *

"He's been gone for a while now, hasn't he?" Indis asked, hoping that the slight amount of worry and panic she was beginning to feel hadn't crept into her voice.

"He has," Cynric replied, only managing to muster a sleepy mumble.

"I think I'm going to go downstairs, maybe have a drink and wait for him. Will you be alright here?"

After Cynric nodded and muttered in the affirmative, Indis set off downstairs, finally sliding into a seat at the bar. She surveyed the busy, bustling room around her, nodding in thanks to the innkeeper once he had set a tankard of ale in front of her. Indis had picked up her ale, and was ready to take a sip when she felt a small tug on the bottom of her shirt. Looking up, she saw a small child, one of the many she had seen running about Solitude, holding out a tiny note to her. After accepting it, she quickly flipped it open, heart nearly stopping when she read the short message within, a message that was very obviously written by Mercer Frey.

_I have Brynjolf. Come to the Solitude catacombs if you want to see him alive._

_-M_

She set the note down with shaking hands, resuming drinking her ale, mind furiously working. A tiny, niggling part of her mind doubted the letter, refusing to believe that Mercer actually had Brynjolf, telling her that this was a trap. However, she couldn't, _wouldn't_, take the chance that it wasn't a ruse. She quickly downed the rest of her ale, and after checking to make sure she had her blade on her, she set off towards the catacombs.

* * *

She opened the rusted, iron door that led to the Solitude catacombs with great trepidation, clasping the hilt of Chillrend with her spare hand, fingers flexing anxiously around the cool glass weapon as she stepped inside.

"Brynjolf?" she softly called out, slowly unsheathing her blade, swallowing nervously as her eyes adjusted to the dim, flickering candlelight that lit the catacombs. She timidly stepped forward, hoping the crunch of dirt wasn't as loud as she thought it might be. Indis tried to calm her pounding heart, glancing around quickly into every nook and cranny that she passed, looking for any sign of her companion.

"Well, then," called out a voice, a hoarse, grating sound that set her nerves on edge, echoing against the walls of the catacomb, finally fading away, vanishing amongst the bones of the dead. "I'll admit, I'm a little surprised you came. I knew you were stupid, but I didn't know you were _this_ stupid."

She spun around, holding her blade out, hoping her voice didn't betray her. "Come out, Mercer," she said, voice trembling, letting him know just how terrified she was at the prospect of being alone with him.

"A little frightened, are we?" he responded with a harsh, barking laugh as he stepped out from the dark shelter of an alcove, face still shrouded by shadow.

"Wh-what do you want from us? Why did you try and kill Gulum-Ei?" Indis asked, maintaining her position, eyes never leaving his form.

Mercer sigh, reaching one hand up to run his fingers through his greying, greasy locks. "Gulum-Ei…let me guess, he told you that he didn't know a damn thing about what happened with me and the Guild? That he learned of it only now, and he was coming to tell you that I was here in Solitude? Is that what he said?"

Her stony silence was the only answer he needed.

He continued, walking forward, beginning to close the gap between them. "That scaly little moron was working for me the whole time, giving me all the information I needed on that shithole of a Guild, and on you. He had one thing, one tiny little flaw that made him a threat, the reason why I needed to dispose of him."

Indis finally spoke, her voice cracking as she broke her silence. "What was that?"

"A conscience, much like the rest of you fucking do-gooders. Couldn't just leave me be, couldn't just let me go. He was a problem. You're all problems for me," he spat, mere feet away from her now, a vicious scowl and furious, hateful eyes making her stomach churn. "Especially you, Indis."

Before she could perform any manner of defensive maneuver, Mercer had whipped his blade out and slammed it against Chillrend, sending the sword flying out of her hands and sliding across the dusty stone floor, and he had reached out to grab her arm, twisting it behind her back with a vice-like grip that caused her to gasp in pain.

"You could have had it all, you know," he continued, throwing her down on the ground, watching her as she tried to drag herself towards the sword that was out of her reach. Mercer caught up with her quickly, just as she was about to wrap her long, slim fingers around the hilt, bringing his boot down on her hand with a sickening crunch, grinding her hand into the floor. He pushed down harder as she tried to pull out from under him, and Indis cried out, screaming in agony as the delicate bones of her fingers snapped and popped under his weight, and finally, he pulled back.

Indis clutched her hand to her chest, gasping for air as she lay on the ground, trying to ignore the sting of dirt mingling with the open wounds on her bloodied, broken hand. She scooted backwards, towards the door that she had entered through, thwarted once more when Mercer grabbed her by her hair, painfully twisting her locks as he knotted his fingers tightly in them, dragging her to her knees.

"I gave you that chance to let me off, to give yourself more wealth than you could ever imagine," Mercer continued, violently jerking her head up so that her angry, watery eyes were looking straight into his. "But this is the path you chose. You just had to keep digging, couldn't let any of it go. You're _so_ much like Gallus, and you do remember what happened to him, don't you?"

He threw her down, and she landed hard on her tailbone, wincing as she lay there. "You will be stopped Mercer," she managed to choke out, trying to brush aside the harrowing mixture of fear and pain that she felt. "I swear to the Guild, and to Nocturnal—"

Mercer kicked her in the chest, crossing his arms in satisfaction as he looked down at her, lying on the cold, dirty ground of the catacombs, wheezing breaths taking more and more effort every minute that passed. "Nocturnal," he growled, striding over, his towering form imposing as he looked down at her. "Doesn't give a shit about you. Is that the lie that Karliah told you? Were you stupid enough to pledge your whole life away to Nocturnal, when she couldn't give two fucks about you?"

He placed on muddied boot on her chest, pressing down quickly, brutally when she did not reply and Indis screamed as she had before, clutching at his leg as she felt her ribs begin to give and snap. Mercer leaned over when she began to move her lips, thrown backwards by the single word she uttered.

"_FUS!"_ she cried out, trusting that the one, tiny, insignificant Shout she knew would buy her enough time to escape. It had been small, weak, and it had only enough force to toss him backwards slightly, but she was hoping that it would be enough. Indis pushed off the ground, her body protesting, stumbling to her feet, and not even daring to look back at him.

"I had forgotten about that little trick of yours," Mercer rasped, as one of his large, thick boots made contact with the small of her back. Indis went flying forward, thrown facedown onto the ground, vision turning white as her face made contact with the cold, dusty stone below. He knelt down next to her, flipping her over onto her back, nonplussed by the weak, angry swings she made at him.

"We can't have any more of that, can we?" he continued, wrapping both of his bloody, calloused hands around her throat, squeezing as hard, as tight as he could, digging his nails into the tender flesh of her neck. Indis choked, desperately gasping for air, brought to the brink of unconsciousness before he suddenly stopped.

"If…if you're just going to kill me…then…then just do it," she choked out, tiny flecks of blood dotting her lips as she spoke.

"Kill you? I had considered it, yes, but I decided against it," he whispered, leaning down to press his lips against her ear, lifting one leg over her body in the process. "I decided that breaking you, making you shatter into tiny little pieces, making you wish I had just killed you, would be so much more fun, so much more rewarding. I think I'll even begin tonight…and look, you're in such a compromising position right now."

"Mercer, no, please, please don't," she whispered, hot, angry tears leaving streaks in the blood and dirt that painted her face, trying as hard as she could to thrash and flail to get away as he began to undo the buckles of her armor with the speed and dexterity that only a seasoned thief could have.

"Shut up," he growled, reaching one hand up to squeeze her throat, using the other to tear the pants of her armor down, ripping away her fur smallclothes, reaching one hand up to unbuckle his own trousers. "Stop making this more difficult for yourself."

A small, desperate whine escaped her throat, and she tried once more to unsuccessfully squirm away as he tore open the front of her armor, digging dull, dirty nails into one bare breast before dragging them downwards, leaving thick, puffy red lines behind them, reaching up to slap her face before wrapping his fingers around her throat once more.

"I wish," he groaned as he pushed into her. "That you would reconsider."

Indis gave him no response, only emitting a loud, despairing, choked sob as he repeatedly thrust into her viciously and mercilessly, bruising, violating, as she writhed and jerked below him. As he found his release, he leaned down to bite hard on her neck, drawing away with the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. He stood quickly, tucking himself back into his trousers as he looked down at the pathetic, sobbing woman at his feet, giving a small smirk of satisfaction as he thought of the possibility of her carrying him a child.

He drew his dagger as he knelt down, razor sharp blade drawing long, thin lines onto her bare hip. "A souvenir," he sneered down at her, patting Indis on one wet, dirty cheek with the flat side of the blade before striding off into the distance, calling out one final thing. "I do hope we can do this again."

* * *

**A/N: Some of you probably noticed the new rating, and it's official: I've decided to bump Ascension up to an M. Things will get a lot darker, a lot more violent, from here on out, and the new rating jump suits it a lot better. **


	12. Little Glass Dragon

The tears and blood had dried hours ago, leaving clean, taut streaks running down through the mask of dirt, blood, and bruises that Mercer had left behind on Indis' battered, bloated face. After he had violated, and subsequently abandoned, her on the dusty tomb floor, she had attempted to pull her torn, bloodied armor back on. After, she had dragged herself to the nearest alcove to suffer in peace. She had wept in humiliation, anger, and frustration for what seemed like an entire age, before her eyes ran dry and she threatened to dry heave from exhaustion.

It had been hours since her confrontation with Mercer, and she had stayed slouched against the cold stone wall, wondering if Mercer was right about Nocturnal. Indis wondered if Nocturnal truly did care little for the mortals who served her, she wondered if her Lord Molag-Bal had watched, if he had been delighted in the brutal, overpowering, defilement of his champion, and she wondered if Arkay had been watching before turning away from the act that had occurred in his halls.

Indis had never felt more alone in her life. The crippling, suffocating loneliness crushed down on every bit of her, and soon, the lump in her throat was growing again. Soon, despite every intention to hold everything back, a loud, choking sob wracked her body. The sound of the rusted iron door that led to the catacomb squealing as it opened jutted her out of her second round of pained weeping. Worried that Mercer had returned, she instinctively scrambled for Chillrend, flinching in panic when she realized that she couldn't close her swollen, shattered hands around the hilt. Her heart pounded against her chest erratically, as though it were trying to burst forth and escape from her cracked, broken ribs, and she gritted her teeth in pain and panic.

"Lass? Indis? Are you down here?" called out a quiet, accented voice, the words echoing hollowly throughout the chamber. Brynjolf had come for her. He had come far too late, but he had come.

Indis let out a small sigh of relief. She opened her sore, broken lips, returning a hoarse response. "Bryn, I'm over here."

As he approached, heavy footsteps increasing in volume, she tried to cover herself and tried to pull the bottoms of her armor back on, to no avail. Indis stared down at the ground, his shadow falling over her, blocking out the torchlight flickering from a nearby sconce. Several seconds passed, with neither of them saying anything to the other. Finally, Brynjolf finally lowered himself to the ground, taking a seat on the floor across from her. His bright, concerned, furious eyes sought to make contact with her red, puffy ones, finally succeeding when he reached over, gently tilting her chin up with two fingers.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he inquired quietly, not needing to ask what had happened. The light in the catacombs had been dim, but it had been enough for him to take in her appearance and put the pieces together.

She shook her head, swallowing hard as she let out a shuddering sigh. Brynjolf simply nodded in understanding, reaching out one hand to place it gently on one of her arms, taking care to not touch any of the broken flesh. Finally, she lifted her head, her eyes swimming with tears.

"Do you think that maybe, just maybe, Nocturnal was never on our side?"

He furrowed his brow slightly, confused, unsure as to where she was going with her question. "What do you mean?"

She sniffled slightly, reaching one arm upwards to gingerly wipe her now running nose. "Mercer said that Nocturnal doesn't give a shit about us, that it doesn't matter. Do you think it's because, well…because she's favored him all along?"

"Why would she favor that heartless bastard?"

Indis shrugged, looking back down at the floor. "Nocturnal is the patron of thieves, and Mercer is the best damn thief there is. He pulled off the greatest con, the greatest heist; he robbed the Thieves Guild blind, Bryn! He stole the bloody Skeleton Key from Nocturnal herself. Fucking Nocturnal! Perhaps we're not meant to win this one. Perhaps the odds were never in our favor. At least not when it came to Mercer, that is."

"Don't say things like that," Brynjolf replied his green eyes growing stern, despite his soft tone. "We'll get Mercer, Indis. I promise you that. We're going to make that son of a bitch pay. He's not going to get away with what he's done to you, or to the guild," he insisted, hoping that he wouldn't disappoint those he cared about and loved more than anything else in Skyrim.

She looked up at him, smiling at the genuine sincerity of his words, his intense, determined gaze, and the regret that he had let this happen to her. "Thank you, Brynjolf," she said hoarsely, throat still raw from the agonized shrieks that Mercer drew forth from her. Indis shifted, biting down on her split lip when her bruised back brushed against the wall. "I need help," she admitted, gesturing to the bottoms of her armor still tangled around her feet, motioning that she couldn't use her hands. As she waited for Brynjolf to stand and offer his assistance, she noticed that the hand of the skeleton resting in the space behind her had slipped down and was resting on her shoulder, in what could possibly construed as a comforting, apologetic gesture. Brynjolf reached down, helping her to her feet, replacing the skeletal hand with his own.

Perhaps, just perhaps, she wasn't so alone after all.

* * *

After she had told him that she didn't want to discuss what happened with Mercer, and that she refused to further speak of what occurred in the catacombs, Brynjolf mercifully hadn't pushed the matter. Instead, he chose to make idle, pleasant conversation instead as he helped her back into her armor, politely averting his eyes as much as he possibly could. He had helped her hobble back to the Winking Skeever, giving her his cloak in order to hide her injuries from curious, nosy passerby as they made their way to her room.

"We should probably get you cleaned up, and then I can go to the Temple of the Divines to see if there's anyone there who knows restoration magic," he said nonchalantly, delicately removing the cloak from her shoulders.

She paused at his words, mulling over one in particular. We. _We_. As much as she hated the thought of obtaining help with a task as simple as bathing, she realized that with the state she was currently in, she wouldn't be able to do much without his help. "Fine," she said, a furious, humiliated flush creeping across her chest and cheeks, raising her arms so that he could begin the task of taking off her armor, something that took longer than it should have, given that Brynjolf refused to look at her.

Indis stepped into the bathtub in the room, grateful that she didn't have to use the bathing room open to all patrons. As she stepped in, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the cloudy, lopsided mirror that hung in the room. The left side of her face was swollen, the bloody, pulpy mess a stark contrast to the other side, which only sported a few cuts and scrapes. She reached up, touching her tender, busted lower lip, her broken hand meandering downwards, brushing against the gashes, bruises, and gouges that dotted her body. Finally her hand stopped on the single letter that Mercer had left behind after he dug his dagger deep into the flesh of her hip. A simple _M_, something he had said was a souvenir, something to remember him by.

Not that she needed any help remembering.

She settled down into the tub with a crash, sloshing hot, soapy water onto the floor, before drawing her knees to her chest. Indis grateful for the bubbly layer that covered her bare skin. The last thing she wanted was to have someone, much less a man, have their hands on her when she was in such a vulnerable, compromising position.

"Tell me if anything hurts or stings," he said simply, breaking the silence as he began to attend to her hair, washing out the gore, unknotting the auburn locks. He chose to stay silent, not commenting on the fact that she was obviously seething in a stew of humiliation, anger, sadness and frustration. Indis stayed silent throughout the process, fighting back tears once more.

"I'll send a courier to Teldryn tonight," he continued, wringing out the rag he had been using.

"What? Why would you do that?" she scowled, staring down at the now murky, discolored bathwater swimming around her. "And I don't want to see a healer tonight. I'm tired," she continued, swirling a slim finger around in the water.

"Suit yourself, then. We can go to the Temple of Divines tomorrow, then. I'm sending a letter to Teldryn because he's your husband, lass. He'll want to know what happened. He _needs_ to know what happened here."

Indis silently worked over his words, the way he had stated the necessity for Teldryn's knowledge as an obvious necessity. She didn't want Teldryn to know, lest he think less of her. _He did tell you not to do anything stupid, Indis, and look what you've gone and done. You should have known better than to go down there. This is entirely your fault. None of this would have happened if you hadn't been so stupid._

"No. Don't tell him."

Brynjolf shrugged, helping her to her feet, slowly drying off her body before helping her tug a clean nightgown over her head. He would send the message anyway, despite her protestations, and made to leave to room when she suddenly called out behind him.

"Don't go," she pleaded, overcome by the crippling fear of being left alone, feeling the walls close in as the image of a predatory, smug Mercer Frey returning crossed her mind. "I-I just really don't want to be alone right now, that's all."

"Aye, lass. I understand. I need to take care of something, but it'll only be a few minutes that I'm gone. Is that alright?"

After she nodded, he left to make his way downstairs to send a message to Teldryn, shutting the door behind him. Indis clambered into the bed in the room, winding the blankets tightly around her body, forming a tight, protective cocoon of linen and fur, waiting with bated breath until Brynjolf returned. Once he was back and settled as comfortably as he could in a chair next to the bed, she finally drifted off into a restless, nightmarish slumber, filled with images of a scowling, grey-haired Breton leering down over her.

* * *

It had been three days since the incident in the catacombs, and after several days of uncomfortable numbness that had settled in in just hours after Mercer, the cold, emotionless detachment she had held in regards to absolutely everything around her was replaced by a hostile, irritated rage. She had been visited by a temple healer, a woman who had stared down at her with sad eyes as the golden light of restoration magic cloaked Indis' body, and Angeline, Solitude's resident alchemist had given her what seemed like an endless pile of potions to down, sympathetically clucking over her the entire time.

Brynjolf and Cynric hadn't been any better, both men treading around her carefully, treating her as though she was a tiny, fragile little glass dragon figurine. All glittering, ferocious fury on the outside, but ready to shatter into a thousand pieces in an instant after one small, tentative drop. Both looked at her with pitying eyes, trying to maintain a façade of normalcy. They both gave her wide, sickly sweet smiles while attempting to joke or make conversation. The two men did so while tiptoeing around her as gently as they could, for fear of setting her off while she was in such a fragile state.

"I'm leaving," she said abruptly, standing from the chair she had been slouching in, moving to tug on her boots as clumsily as she could with her heavily bandaged hands. She glowered at Cynric as he made to stand. "And I'm going alone. If you so much as go off and tell Brynjolf, I'll have your hide."

She stormed out of the room, stomping down the stairs of the inn, drawing the curious stares of the nosy patrons. Indis did her best to ignore the pairs of eyes that followed her, not caring that she was wearing nothing but large, clunky boots and a thin nightgown. Clumsily fumbling with the door to the establishment, she flung it open, stepping into the brisk, glorious sunlight of morning. The sky was a bright, clear blue, with only a few delicate, wispy clouds streaking across it. It was quite a blunt contrast to her foul, stormy mood. Indis knew that she should buy some more clothes and that she should have something decent to wear instead of a nightgown. She stopped briefly in front of Radiant Raiment, continuing once more towards the gates of the city once she thought of the smarmy, snide proprietors of the garment shop, not wishing them to rake her over with their judgmental, condescending eyes.

A guard gave her a nod as she passed underneath the stone arch. Solitude was left behind as she meandered down the wide, cobbled road, drawn towards the Khajiit caravan like a moth to a flame, hoping that they had something for sale that she could wear. The pawnbroker, the leader that she had struck a deal with so long ago looked up at her, greeting her with a warm smile.

"Ri'saad," she said, stopping in front of the cross-legged cat in front of her, furrowing her brow, wondering what it was that brought him this far north. "I thought you only travelled between Markarth and Whiterun."

"There are many opportunities in Solitude," he purred with a smile, gesturing to the towering city in the distance. "There are so many soldiers there, so many soldiers in need of certain things that only Ri'saad offers. What is our most honored business partner and Guildmaster in need of?"

Indis ducked under the entrance flap of the hide tent, slowly lowering herself to the ground, seating herself across from him. "I need clothes. I need something to wear," she finally said, gesturing to the worn little nightgown she was in.

"Yes, Khajiit can give you what you need," he replied, the gentle, smoothness of his accent relaxing her. "Although there is much, much more which can be offered to you; perhaps a solution for your troubles and your pain?" Ri'saad continued, reaching to his side, producing a tiny, handheld skooma pipe and a few tiny bottles, holding them out to her.

Indis bristled uncomfortably, jaw clenching tightly as she stared at the sight of the little bottle in front of her. "I don't do that, Ri'saad."

"Ah, but perhaps you should? A taste, a trial, that is all. Consider it a gift from me and my caravan to you, Guildmaster," he said, pausing briefly, to uncork one little purple bottle, pouring its contents into the bowl of the pipe, lighting the small candle inside with a tiny, flickering flame produced at the tip of his clawed fingers. "To my people, moon sugar is a gift from the gods themselves, and skooma is often used as a religious experience, to draw one closer to the Divines, to the cosmos themselves."

"Well," Indis replied, reaching out. She held the pipe clumsily in her hands, raising it to her lips after a few moments of hesitation. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea. The effects of her early morning healing potion were beginning to wear off. "If it's a gift from the gods, it can't be all bad, can't it?"

"It will help with the pain," he offered helpfully, gesturing to the marks and gashes on her arms that still had yet to heal, nodding at her bandaged hands.

Indis inhaled deeply, launching into a choking cough as the thick, pungent smoke filled her lungs. Ri'saad waited patiently as she cleared her throat, heavy smoke pouring forth from her lips. After her throat had stopped burning, she pressed her lips to the pipe once more, inhaling deeply, the heavy, heady smoke from the drug filling her, coating her throat and lungs. After holding the smoke hostage for several seconds, she exhaled once more, already beginning to feel the pleasant effects that settled over her like a heavy blanket that she couldn't wriggle out from under, no matter how hard she tried.

She stayed with Ri'saad, sharing his skooma pipe, uncertain of how long she sat cross-legged on the frayed mat covering the cold ground. Gradually, she felt her pain subside and disappear, taking her troubles along. She felt fuzzy, sluggish, slow, but she felt confident, strong, brave, as though she could conquer anything; vampires, bandits, dragons, Mercer. Indis set down the pipe, blowing out a cloud of smoke once more before raising her red, bloodshot eyes to meet those of the Khajiit seated across from her.

"I'm going to kill that fucking bastard," she said, words and smoke pouring from her lips in an angry, determined hiss, feeling stronger and more confident than she ever had. Resolute refusal to let Mercer escape or to let him break her flooded over her. "I'm going to kill Mercer Frey. I'm going to make that bastard pay."

* * *

**A/N: Euugh, short chapter. Hope you still enjoyed it, despite the fact that it's the beginning of her skooma addiction.**

**As always, reviews, favorites, follows are so appreciated. **


	13. The Argonian Talks

After a quick twist of the iron latch, Indis had flung open the window of her rented room in the Winking Skeever. She poked her head out of the window, inhaling deeply once the cool, crisp air had hit her face. Before making herself comfortable, she fumbled around in her pocket for a few seconds, resurfacing with a small pipe and a bottle of skooma, both of which were gifts from Ri'saad. Indis leaned against the stone ledge, watching the late afternoon bustle of the Solitude marketplace as she took a drag on her pipe, exhaling after a few seconds.

"Are you at that again?"

Indis looked back at Brynjolf with a small shrug before turning back to watching the people below. "There's nothing else to do in here," she griped, gesturing to the tiny room he had confined her to. "You won't let me go out. Besides, it helps with pain. It's better than those weak, watered down potions you've been nagging me about drinking."

He scowled at her, choosing to say nothing about the most recent habit she had picked up. "Lass, you know why you can't go out there, especially not when you're alone."

"Yes, I know. Mercer could still be out there, and he could come back to finish the job. I know," she reiterated with a sigh, a massive cloud of thick smoke pouring out of her mouth. She focused her attention on a group of young children playing tag in front of the inn, trying her hardest to ignore Brynjolf's concerned stare. For the past four days she had been cooped up in her room with nothing but sweetrolls, skooma, and Brynjolf to keep her company. Her second in command had been furious when he discovered she had wandered off on her own, and hadn't let her out of his sight since. As much as she loved all of those things, she was on the brink of madness.

"Cynric said that Gulum-Ei was talking this morning," Brynjolf finally said, letting out an uncomfortable cough to break the silence. "Whenever you're ready, we can go and have a little chat with him. It'll be good to finally hear his side of the story."

"Really?" Indis asked, setting down her now empty pipe on the nearby end table before moving back to the window. She carefully climbed over the stone ledge, swinging her legs over so they were dangling over the edge. "I think I—"

All of a sudden, she felt a pair of strong hands grab her shoulders, gripping her more tightly than was necessary. "Brynjolf, what are you doing?"

"Sorry, I just thought you were about to… well, you know."

Indis laughed, folding her arms over her chest. "That I was going to kill myself by jumping out of the window? Please, Brynjolf. If I were going to take my own life, I'd choose a faster, less painful method, since that drop would probably just break my legs. There is absolutely no way that it would get the job done. I do appreciate the concern, though. As I was saying," she continued, pausing to flex and wiggle the fingers of her left hand. Sharp, searing pain jolted through her palm and fingers, causing her to grimace and let out a tiny, agonized hiss.

"Your hand still bothering you?"

"Aye, it is," she admitted. Over the past several days, visits to temple healers, several potions a day and smoking all of the skooma she could get her hands on had helped her recuperate at a miraculous rate. It had been a week since Mercer had brutally attacked her, and she only had a few scars and bruises that still lingered along with the pain in her hand "I think it didn't heal right because it hasn't been feeling any better. It's been driving me crazy. It's even been keeping me awake at night," she paused, cursing as she rubbed furiously at the twitching palm with her one good hand. "I'm not looking forward to trying to use my bow again. Bryn, do you think I could just lop this hand off and get a new one?"

Brynjolf snorted, tightening his grip on her shoulders. "I don't think it works that way, lass. I think you'll want to have both hands when it comes time to take on Mercer, dragons, and whatever else Skyrim has to throw at us. Now, are you ready to go have a little chat with that slimy little Argonian?"

"I suppose I'm as ready as I'll ever be," she sighed, allowing Brynjolf to help her back over into the room, only letting go of him once she had planted her feet firmly on the ground. "Mercer said that he was working with him, but I'm sure that Gulum-Ei will tell us the exact opposite. Come on, let's go and get this over with."

* * *

"So," Indis began as she propped her feet up on the table in front of her, turning to focus on Gulum-Ei. "Cynric tells us that you're feeling much better, and you're quite willing to talk. Is that so?"

The Argonian nodded frantically, reaching up to adjust the cloth bandages wrapped around his neck. "I am, Guildmaster. I'm so sorry… I'm so, so sorry," he began, his voice a rough rasp.

"Save it," she snapped, causing both him and Brynjolf to jump. "I'm here for the truth, and nothing else. All we want to know is why Mercer Frey tried to murder you. That's it. Tell us why, and we'll be on our way."

Indis waited patiently, her eyes boring into the twitchy Argonian man, as she twirled a dagger in her hand. He looked nervous, his eyes darting back and forth between her and Brynjolf, and she readied herself for what was likely going to be a lie.

"Fine," he eventually sighed, leaning back to rest on the pillow once more. "I'll tell you the truth. I-I was working for Mercer and I—" He stopped suddenly, his eyes growing fearful as he watched both of them.

Indis' heart began pounding furiously in her chest, and for several seconds all she could hear was the _whoosh_ of blood rushing to her head and her ears. Her knuckles grew white as she angrily gripped the arms of the chair, and she took a deep breath to try and calm down. Mercer hadn't been lying, after all. Gulum-Ei _had_ been working with him.

"Please, do go on," Brynjolf growled, his face twisted with rage. Indis had only seen him look that angry once before, and it had been when Mercer escaped from them. "You were just about to tell us how you were working with Mercer and…? And what?"

"I was giving him information on the Guild, on everything you were doing! He wanted to know where people were, what your plans were for any big heists, a-and he wanted to know if anyone was searching for him," Gulum-Ei responded, surprising them as he spilled all of the information in a quick, messy mumble. He raised his hands over his face, peeking out at them after a few seconds of stony silence.

"Anything else? Did he tell you anything about what he was doing? Anything at all," Indis pressed, glancing over at Brynjolf. The redhead was seething, and Gulum-Ei was withering under his ferocious, furious glare. "If so, please do share."

The Argonian inhaled shakily before he continued. "He didn't tell me much. He only came to me to ask questions and to see if I had any information, and he gave me plenty of gold if I did. I couldn't ever give him good, detailed information, but he seemed pleased with what I did give him. It wasn't much, I promise! H-he never told me much about what he was doing. The only thing he ever said was that he had 'big plans'."

"Big plans for what? By the Eight, we're going to need more to go on than that," Brynjolf growled, cracking his knuckles before he folded his arms over his chest.

Gulum-Ei raised his palms, watching them uneasily. "Look, I've told you everything. I don't know anything else."

"Fine," Indis said, stretching as she stood up, giving the Argonian one final nod. "Thank you for your help. We'll be on our way now."

Once she had elicited a frantic nod from him, she made her way towards the door, beckoning Brynjolf to follow her. She had placed her hand on the doorknob and had just begun to turn it when a worried voice called out to them. "Wait, you can't go! Wh-what about me? Do you know what Mercer will do to me once he finds out that I've talked to you?"

Indis paused. "Yes," she replied, briefly glancing back over her shoulder. "I know, and I don't care."

* * *

Indis shut the door to her bedroom behind them, leaning against its cool wood once it was closed. "What do you think?" she asked, keeping her voice as low as possible. "I don't think he told us everything. Although, I will admit…I wasn't expecting him to be so honest about everything. "

Brynjolf settled down in a nearby chair, running one hand down over his face. "Well, that probably had something to do with the fact that Cynric told him what Mercer did, and made him more terrified of you. For a little while at least," he said, giving a small, weary laugh. "As far as what he's telling us, neither do I. He's likely still hiding something. What should we do about this?"

She stood silently, worriedly gnawing on her lower lip a few seconds before speaking. "I… I don't know," she admitted, an anxious churning beginning in her stomach. "There's really nowhere to go, at least not on the information that Gulum-Ei gave us."

"Which was fucking useless, by the way," Brynjolf replied, his brow furrowing. "Big plans? That's it? I don't believe that's all he knows."

Indis nodded. "That could be the case. Or, he could be telling the truth and he could actually have no idea what that wretched piece of horker shit is up to," she paused, sliding down the door until she was seated on the floor. "I think that we should tell the Guild. I think it's time for everyone to know that Mercer is around, and he's most definitely a threat."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You think so? I thought we agreed to keep it between ourselves and Karliah, just in case Mercer has informants."

"Yes, I know that's what we agreed to. Look at how much good that did," she pointed out, wringing her hands. "We kept it between us, and it hasn't given us any advantage. He obviously wormed his way around that. Everyone needs to know, just so they can be on their guard."

"We'll figure something out, don't worry. Everything will be fine," Brynjolf insisted, giving her a comforting smile.

"I hope so," Indis sighed, exhaling loudly as she looked up at her companion. "We can talk about this more in the morning. Right now, I'd like to get some sleep."

Indis slowly clambered to her feet, taking care to not use her left hand to push off the floor. Brynjolf had jumped to his feet, and had stretched out a hand for her to take. She dusted the dirt off of her trousers, looking up at Brynjolf with a tired smile. "Thank you for everything you've done for me," she said softly, placing on hand on his arm. "I appreciate it, Bryn. I know I've been unpleasant and disagreeable over the past week, but everything you've been doing really means a lot to me," she continued, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss him on the cheek. All of a sudden, he reached up and turned her head ever so slightly, so that her lips ended up pressed against his in an unexpected kiss.

* * *

Teldryn tapped his fingers nervously on the wooden table before him, the frantic, anxious rapping doing little to unsettle the robed Dunmer seated calmly across from him. After what seemed like an age of uncomfortable, unbearable silence, he finally cleared his throat and spoke.

"Casimir," he began, stopping after he had uttered his brother's name. Over the years, he had wondered what would happen if they were to be reunited, carefully rehearsing what he would say if that moment were to come. Now that he was actually sitting here, every carefully selected word had abandoned him, and he was left sitting in awkward silence once more.

"It's Erandur," he corrected gently, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. "I don't use the name Casimir anymore."

Teldryn furrowed his brow, processing what he had just been told. "Erandur? Your name is Erandur now? What was wrong with Casimir?" he continued, launching question after question at his brother, with his hoarse voice shaking throughout the process. "Where have you been all this time? What happened with that cult you joined?"

"It's…" Erandur began, stopping suddenly, turning towards the small hands that were tugging at his robes. "Yes, little one?"

Israna stared at him sullenly, scowling before she clumsily darted away towards the room they had rented, no doubt in search of her brothers. The two Dunmer men watched her as she scuttled away, before Erandur finally cleared his throat. "You have lovely children, Teldryn. I'll admit I never expected you to be the type to settle down. Your wife, where is she?"

Teldryn raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his mead before he responded. "Lovely… yes. They are, some of the time. Indis is in Solitude, and I'm sure you'll get to meet her eventually. Now," he said as he leaned forward, focusing his full attention on the man seated across from him. "I believe you haven't answered my questions, Cas-, er, Erandur."

"I know, and I will, in due time. However, there are much more pressing issues at hand," Erandur replied in a hushed whisper, tone growing even more serious. "You've heard talk of the nightmares that plague Dawnstar, yes?"

"I have," Teldryn sighed in irritation. Ever since they had arrived in the frozen wasteland of a city, he had heard nothing but complaints of the nightmares that troubled the city's inhabitants. "What of them?"

"I've come here to aid these poor people in alleviating the problem, and I was hoping that you might help me. If you'll come with me to Nightcaller Temple, I can give you all the answers you need," he replied, pushing his chair back and standing up. He stood there silently, red eyes boring into Teldryn as he waited for a response.

Teldryn frowned, mulling over the proposition as he finished off the last of his drink. After several seconds had passed, he placed the empty bottle on the table and stood with a groan. It looked like after several decades of waiting for answers, he would have to wait a little longer.

"I'm right behind you."

* * *

**A/N: Just a tiny little filler chapter! I was going to include the happenings in Nightcaller Temple, but that would have made this chapter insanely, incredibly long, so that'll be next one. In the coming chapters, look forward to drama and tension with dragons, Thalmor, vampires, and Mercer Frey. Not all at once, of course. That would just be insane. **


	14. States of Being

The massive blizzard that had engulfed Dawnstar had thankfully let up by the time Erandur and Teldryn set off towards Nightcaller Temple, and they trudged forward through a light snowfall in cold silence. For several minutes, all that could be heard was the crunch of snow and ice underneath their feet, the occasional cough, and both suddenly stopped when the distant roar of a dragon echoed through the crisp night air.

"The dragons have returned to Skyrim, I hear," Erandur remarked casually, setting off once more. "Fascinating, I must admit. Although I do hope that I never encounter one of the creatures myself."

Teldryn sighed, picking up the pace in order to catch up with the swift priest. He opened his mouth to reply regarding the dragons, but quickly closed it again. If his brother got to travel with Indis at any point, he would most certainly be seeing a dragon up close. The creatures seemed to be drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and together they had encountered more than their fair share. He cleared his throat, changing the subject.

"This temple," he drawled, gesturing to the crumbling structure that they were rapidly approaching. "Is this where you went? Is this where you joined that cult?"

It wasn't until his brother whipped around with a pained frown that he realized just how accusatory his tone was. Erandur sighed before speaking. "Yes, this is."

"Why are you coming back here, then? You don't look like a cultist."

"I'm coming back to—," Erandur began, stopping suddenly when he raised one hand to motion for Teldryn to stay back. "I think I see something up ahead near the entrance of the Temple. I can't quite make out what they are in the dark."

As they cautiously approached, their question was quickly answered. It was a trio of frost trolls, and their loud footsteps and the bright, flickering glow from Erandur's torch alerted them of their presence. The three beasts grunted and howled before beginning to barrel forward, rapidly approaching the two Dunmer men. Erandur tossed aside the torch and readied flame spells in the palms of his hands, failing to care when the snow extinguished their previous source of light. Teldryn had already conjured a flame atronach and was rushing forward towards one of the beasts, blade glimmering in the dim light. The creatures writhed in agony as they were doused in flames by the pair of men, and soon, there was only a lone, weakened frost troll left. They advanced towards the limping, injured creature, and both let out startled gasps when a tall, slim figure raced past them towards the animal.

It was Aventus, and before either one of them could protest or stop him, he had plunged his sword into the troll's chest, clumsily yanking it out after the creature had given one final, pained grunt. He wiped the bloodied blade off on the animal's chest before awkwardly sheathing it, finally turning towards them with a proud expression and his chest puffed out, no doubt waiting for accolades and praise.

"What are you doing here?" Teldryn spat, quickly closing the distance between them, reaching out to violently grab one of Aventus' arms. "How in the name of Malacath's hairy knuckles did you find us?"

Aventus pulled away before looking up at his father with a tiny smirk on his face. "Wasn't that hard, Pa. I just followed the bright, bobbing torchlight. Simple," he said, planting his hand on his hips, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "Oh, and before you say anything about Izzy or Cas, don't worry about it. I got that bard in the inn to look after them. She was more than happy to, since she doesn't know how absolutely awful they are. She'll learn soon enough, though. I hope Izzy bites her if she tries to sing," he added, grinning wickedly.

By this point, Teldryn's lips had pursed themselves into a thin, angry line. "Enough!" he bellowed, hoarse, furious voice making Aventus and Erandur jump. "Where did you get that sword? The armor, too."

Aventus shrugged. "I got them from the blacksmith's. He had just left them lying around on the table outside by his forge."

Erandur gasped, a delicate, judging sound. "You stole those items?"

"I don't see what's so bad," Aventus replied, rolling his eyes. "Ma always says that if people didn't want you to take something, they shouldn't just leave it lying around."

Erandur gasped again, this time politely covering his mouth with his hand. "Your mother encourages you to steal?" he asked, casting a curious, disapproving glance in Teldryn's direction.

The teenage boy raised his head proudly. "She's Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild! That's where we get all of our money from."

The Dunmer priest let out another horrified gasp, but before he could speak, Teldryn interrupted. "Quit that, both of you. Aventus, you know better than to run your mouth like that," he groaned, raspy voice thick with irritation. "Brother, enough of those little noises. You keep that up, and I may prefer the insane, wretched cultist to the pious, condescending priest. Now, come on. Let's get inside that Temple."

* * *

"I wish we didn't have to kill them," Agmaer lamented once more, causing Celann to sigh in irritation.

The Breton turned around to stare at the blond Nord man in annoyance as they trudged up the path to Castle Volkihar, finally letting out a laugh. "Are you still going on about those horkers we had to take care of? They're horkers Agmaer, that's all."

"I know, I know. They just look so sad and pathetic though, the way they all flop towards you…" Agmaer replied, trailing off. "Wait, Celann. What's that? Is anyone supposed to be out here on patrol?" he asked, pointing to a pair of figures looming near the guard tower.

"I don't think so. Be on your guard," Celann replied, reaching for the hilt of his weapon as they cautiously approached.

As they drew closer, they were able to take in the glowing orange-red eyes; the black and red armor that they had seen on so many of Harkon's minions and quickly put the pieces together. Vampires.

The two men of the Dawnguard drew the axes that they carried on their hips, readying themselves as the vampires approached. Agmaer took a deep breath and darted towards the female vampire, axe raised above his head. He dodged an ice spike, feeling a nervous churning in his stomach when the glittering, unsettling red of a vampire's drain spell surrounded his body. He quickened his pace, closing the distance between them, planting his axe in the vampire's neck with one, hard swing. The spell dissipated as she collapsed, her eyes wide as she tumbled to the ground and lay still. He jerked the axe out of her neck, flinching at the sickening squelch that followed. Looking up, he saw that Celann had finished off the other vampire and was now carefully rifling around through its pockets.

"I found something. A note that looks like it has orders of some kind," the Breton said as soon as Agmaer had arrived by his side. He held up the piece of paper that he had retrieved from the vampire's pocket and the young Nord man took it, eyes widening as he read the message.

"We should get this to Isran right away."

* * *

Aventus fidgeted, letting out a bored sigh that he hoped the stone walls passageways of the Temple carried to his uncle and his father, wherever they happened to be. He stood up off of the dusty, lopsided bench he had been commanded to stay on until they returned for him and idly wandered over about the room. His fingers brushed against the faded, moth-eaten cloth of a banner hanging on the wall and he stopped to carelessly flip through a rotted, fragile tome. He let out another sigh, ears pricking when the sounds of a battle were carried throughout the temple to the room he was in. Ignoring all instructions that had been given to him, he set off towards the source of the noise with his hand on his hilt, stopping in surprise at what he saw.

Teldryn and Erandur were engaged in battle with several robed figures and Orismer men who were all slowly clambering up off the cold stone floor. Aventus took a deep breath as he drew his sword fully intending to rush forward into the fray, finding that his courage quickly had failed him. He watched, withdrawn in the shadows as Teldryn and Erandur set their foes alight with gouts and bursts of flickering flame, plunging blades into chests and smashing maces into skulls when the cultists and Orcs drew too close. He was so enraptured by what he saw before him that he only noticed the presence of a cultist when a spike of ice shattered on the wall next to his head, drawing him out of his stupor.

He stepped back, mouth opening wide as he looked up to see a young Breton man striding towards him, magicka obviously failing him as he tried to muster up another destruction spell. When he was unsuccessful, he reached for a slim dagger at his side, a murderous glint in his eyes. Aventus gulped, trying to swallow the nervous lump in his throat as he fumbled for his stolen weapon, backing away. The cultist lunged at him, the dagger slicing through the air at a remarkable speed. Aventus attempted to dodge it, but felt the sharp blade make contact with the exposed flesh of his arm. He looked down, surprised to see a thin wound with a trail of blood oozing out of it. It was then that he realized the gravity of the situation, and that this was going to be much more different that his training sessions with Stenvar and Lydia.

He raised his sword, catching the Breton off guard when he lunged forward, just barely nicking the man's dark purple robes. His opponent was reaching for the second dagger at his side when Aventus saw the briefest window of opportunity. He thrust his sword forward, hoping it made contact with anywhere on the man's body, surprised when it pierced the man's throat. Aventus withdrew it quickly, watching as the man collapsed to the floor with a choked gurgle, blood spilling out of the gash on his neck. Sheathing his sword without even bother to wipe it clean, he looked up to see two pairs of red eyes watching him.

"I-I know I wasn't supposed to leave. I heard all of this noise, and I just thought that…" he trailed off shakily, preparing for yet another reprimanding.

His father gave him a small, wry smile, walking over to him. "No matter. I'm glad you're fine," he said, clapping the teenage boy on the shoulder as he inspected him curiously. He took in the way Aventus averted his eyes, refusing to even so much as glance at the body on the floor, his loud, quickened breathing, and the slight tremble of the shoulder underneath his hand. "Are you fine? It's understandable if you're not," he continued quietly.

Aventus shook him off. "I'm fine, it's not a big deal," he replied, stepping over the young, Breton cultist that he had slain mere minutes before.

"We should keep going," Erandur interrupted gently. "Perhaps it would be best to bring Aventus with us. He's proven himself, and it wouldn't do to have one of these fellows wake from the influence of the miasma and find him alone. Let's go."

* * *

"So, we can't just walk through that barrier thing?" Aventus asked, stepping over more bodies towards one of the bookshelves in the Temple's library. There had been more foes to hack, slash, and burn their way through, and Aventus had chosen to hang back and watch his father and uncle eliminate them from a distance.

"Yes, yes, we can, actually," Teldryn remarked dryly, pushing a book back onto a shelf. "Your uncle was lying when he told us that we would die horrific, a painful death if we tried to pass through without…well, without whatever it is that we need. Go on, try it."

Aventus scowled, ignoring the sarcastic remark and the snide tone. "Hmmph. I was just asking. What's the name of this book that we need anyway?"

"_The Dreamstride_," Erandur replied, running one slim finger along a row of dusty books, occasionally stopping to wipe away dust that obscured a tome's name. "If you manage to find it that would be absolutely wonderful."

Teldryn waited until Aventus had left the main area of the library before stopping his search to lean against a rotting bookshelf. "Now, do you want to tell me what this is all about? What exactly is going on here? I'm hoping that Aventus and I aren't aiding in some nasty cult business."

Erandur stopped, letting out a weary sigh. "It's a long story, Teldryn."

Teldryn shrugged. "This is a big library, and we've got to find one tiny little book. I think we've got the time."

"I suppose so," his brother replied, pulling another book off the shelf. "This was the cult that I was a part of, the cult that I cut off all contact with you, mother, and father for. This was home to Vaermina's cult, and I had sworn my life to that Daedra. I lost everything because of this place and Vaermina," he sighed, shaking his head sadly before continuing. "You, our parents…I even got expelled from the Bard's College once they learned of my affiliation."

"What happened here? Why was everyone asleep? You'd said something about a miasma."

"Yes, the miasma. You recall the nightmares that trouble Dawnstar, yes?"

His brother nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"That is what Vaermina leaves in her aftermath. She feeds off of memories, stealing them, but she leaves behind brutal, repetitive, unbearable nightmares in her wake. These Orcs invaded the temple," he said, jerking his head towards an Orismer lying in a pool of blood. "They were experiencing nightmares, just as the same as those poor souls in Dawnstar. They attacked, and knowing we could not defeat them, a decision was made to release the miasma to protect Vaermina's artifact, the Skull of Corruption. Everyone in the Temple was put into a deep slumber."

"Hmm," Teldryn replied, absentmindedly scratching at his chin. "So, what brings you here? How did you even escape this wretched place anyhow?"

"I escaped by…" he trailed off, his voice cracking. He paused to inhale deeply, starting again. "I escaped by abandoning all of my friends and by leaving them to die. It was wrong and cowardly, but if I hadn't done so, I never would have been saved by the loving ways of Lady Mara. It was difficult at first, to adjust from a harsh life of such violence," he reminisced, smiling. "The priests that took me in were ever so kind and patient, though. She's the one who sent me back here to destroy the Skull once and for all."

"Why the name change? Why'd you abandon Casimir?"

"I wanted to leave all memories, all attachments of this place behind. When I came into the ways of Mara, it was a chance to start over, to lead a life of love and redemption. I chose the name Erandur as a part of my new beginning."

Teldryn ran one hand through his mohawk, surprised by his brother's admission. When he had last left him all of those decades ago, his brother had been hostile, brash, and violent, and he was having difficulty adjusting that the same man was now a gentle, kind, loving priest of Mara. The silence after Erandur's tale was quickly broken as Aventus called out to them from the upper level of the library.

"I found it!"

* * *

Isran pushed the tiny slip of parchment across the table towards Serana, waiting until she had picked it up and inspected it before speaking. "This Orthjolf. Does that name sound familiar to you at all?"

The dark-haired vampire sighed, setting down the letter that Agmaer and Celann had retrieved. "It does. He was a member of my father's court and was one of the most obnoxious, vehement ass-kissers of the bunch, too. Orthjolf was constantly vying for my father's affection and validation."

"I thought we eliminated every member of his court."

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. "Apparently not. It would appear he escaped."

"It sounds like he's trying to fulfill the very same prophecy your father was," Isran said, his eyes narrowing. "This wouldn't be a problem if you and your mother had just gotten cured like I told you to. If you had done that, then this wouldn't even be an issue. It wouldn't even be a concern."

Serana bit her lip as he brought up _that_ once more. He had relentlessly pushed her towards curing her vampirism, and it had become a sore point between them. "I'm going to find Indis."

He looked up at her, frowning. "You most certainly are not. You'll be staying here, where we can ensure that this Orthjolf doesn't get his hands on you, or Valerica, or your blood."

"Do this, do that! You will, you will not! I'm sick of this, Isran," she spat, throwing her hood up over her head. "If he's trying to fulfill the prophecy, he's going to need Auriel's Bow, which she carries. I won't let him hurt her. I'm leaving now to find her, and you can't stop me."

* * *

"Are you sure you're fine with doing this?" Erandur asked, watching as Teldryn nervously rolled the small bottle around in the palm of one hand. "If I could, I would. Believe me. My oath to Mara prevents me from doing so, unfortunately."

Popping the cork off of the bottle, Teldryn nodded. "I'm ready," he replied, hoping that the slight waver in his rasping voice didn't betray him. Even Erandur had admitted that he wasn't entirely certain what would happen once he had downed the torpor needed to dispel the barrier. Despite this, Teldryn had chosen to trust him. Taking one deep breath, he drank the torpor, tossing aside the bottle once he had finished.

"Is it supposed to do something? I don't thin…" he trailed off in a slur, legs giving out from underneath him. Fortunately, Erandur was ready, and caught Teldryn before slowly lowering him to the floor.

Aventus knelt down beside his father, watching him quietly before letting out a tiny gasp. His body had begun to glimmer, giving it the appearance of a mirage during a heat wave before slowly disappearing entirely.

* * *

Once he had drank the torpor, the hallucination, the dream world, or whatever he had entered had been absolutely fascinating. Teldryn had been shocked to realize that not only was he experiencing the events of the attack from someone's memory, but it had been his brother's experience. He had been instructed to release the miasma by two men, and after darting through the temple, avoiding the skirmishes between the Orcish invaders and the cultists, he had finally reached a metal pull chain after navigating his way to the upper level of the sanctum. After giving it a gentle tug, the miasma had been released into the temple, and he had awakened.

He groaned as he slowly clambered to his feet, still feeling foggy and off from the blurry, bright experience he had just had. Looking up, he saw Erandur motioning for him to remove a soul gem resting on a pedestal. Once he had snatched it up, the magical barrier fully dissipated.

"Ah, it worked!" Erandur said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. "We were a bit worried when you disappeared, but I had a feeling that you might turn up here. What was it like? Oh, don't bother right now, we're so close! We can discuss it back at the inn."

With that exclamation, the Dunmer priest bounded off down the staircase, weaving throughout the corridors with both Teldryn and Aventus hot on his heels. He finally came to a stop after they had passed through a doorway.

"You should wait here," Erandur said, pointing for Aventus to take a seat on a nearby bench. "I'm not sure what's ahead."

He took off once more, with only Teldryn behind him. "Veren, Thorek! You survived," he said, sounding relieved as they approached two cultists waiting with readied weapons.

Teldryn watched carefully, realizing they were the two men that had given him the instructions to release the miasma once he was under the influence of the torpor. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, an ugly, nagging feeling plaguing him.

"Ah, how brave of you to come back after you abandoned us, after you abandoned Vaermina!" sneered the man that Erandur had called Veren. "We know what you're here to do, Brother Casimir. We won't allow you to destroy the Skull."

"Casimir? I don't use that name any longer. I'm sorry it's come to this," Erandur remarked sadly, flickering flames appearing in his palms. "I have to destroy the Skull, though. No matter the cost."

The battle that followed was incredibly bloody and quick, despite Veren and Thorek's skill. They had been under the influence of the miasma for far too long, and their bodies were sluggish and unaccustomed to combat. They fell quickly to a mixture of fire and metal, and after giving them one last mournful glance, Erandur approached the altar.

"Stay back while I complete the ritual that Lady Mara gave to me to destroy the skull," he commanded, and Teldryn obeyed, taking a few steps back. He was unsurprised when Aventus jogged up to stand next to him.

His brother began his ritual, and he and the Skull were engulfed in a bright, glowing light. Teldryn and Aventus watched with great interest as the priest completed the process, both of them jumping when a sharp, honeyed voice penetrated their thoughts.

"_He is deceiving you," _a female voice purred, the urgency within it hard to miss. _"As soon as he completes the ritual, he will take the Skull of Corruption for himself and he will slay you both. Quick, kill him! Vaermina commands it!"_

Teldryn scowled. "Oh, fuck off."

* * *

They stood at the entrance of the Temple, worn and exhausted after Erandur had led them back to the exit.

"What will you do now?"

Erandur shrugged, reaching up to scratch his beard. "I had already set up a small shrine to Lady Mara here," he replied, gesturing to a table. "I was planning on spending the rest of my days here, devoted to her, seeking forgiveness for my past deeds."

"You don't have to, you know," Teldryn said, pausing to cough awkwardly. "You could come with us. We've got plenty of gold, plenty of space. You'd be more than welcome, brother."

Erandur smiled, his bright red eyes glowing with happiness. "Yes, I think I would like that."

* * *

The exhausted trio trudged back to the Windpeak Inn, wanting nothing more than a hot meal and to tumble into bed after their experiences in Nightcaller Temple. As they stepped into the inn, and were about to sigh with relief as the heady warmth wrapped around them, a courier approached them.

"Is one of you a Teldryn Sero?" the man asked, gesturing between the two Dunmer men. Once Teldryn had nodded, the courier reached into his satchel, emerging after a few seconds with a letter. "Here you go. It came from some handsome fellow up in Solitude. He wanted me to get it to you as quickly as possible."

He thanked him after taking the letter held out to him, tearing through the wax seal. The message was short, but the few simple words had his heart racing in panic.

"It's from Indis' second in command," he finally said, lowering his trembling hands. "I think something happened. We need to leave for Solitude immediately."

* * *

As soon as Brynjolf released her and took a step backwards, Indis was more than ready to give him a piece of her mind. She was ready to shove him away, to wail on his chest with her tiny balled-up fists, to ask him what in Oblivion he was doing because she was married, but before she could do any of that, he spoke.

"Listen," he said, giving her a soft, gentle smile, green eyes crinkling at the corners. "I just want you to listen, that's all. I have something for you to consider, lass."

After remaining motionless for a few seconds, she relaxed, indicating that he should continue by giving him a simple nod.

"You've probably noticed that I'm not exactly getting any younger," he began, running one large hand through his hair.

Indis scoffed. "You're not that old, Bryn. You're not even forty."

He laughed. "Actually, I'm forty-two, so yes; I'm most definitely over forty. Moving on, though," he continued, pausing to take a deep breath. "I've been thinking about this for a while now. If things don't work out with Teldryn, I'd like you to think about settling down with me."

She silently mulled over his proposition for a few seconds before looking back up at him with a scowl. "What makes you so certain things won't work out with Teldryn?" she asked, her voice unintentionally taking on a shrill, accusing tone.

Brynjolf raised his hands up defensively, shaking his head. "No, no. I'm not saying anything's certain; it's just that you two have had your share of problems in the past. Plenty of them."

Indis felt a humiliated flush creeping into her cheeks, knowing full well that he was right. They had done well over the past two years, much better than previously, but they'd still had more than their fair share of problems. "I love him," she asserted, scowling at him as she folded her arms over her chest. "I really do. If you'd asked me that a few years ago, I'd have been lying, but I'm not."

Brynjolf shrugged. "I've no doubt in my mind that you do, Indis. It's just that sometimes, love isn't enough; good, healthy relationships need much, much more than just that. It doesn't mean he's right for you, or you're right for him."

She stayed silent, glaring at him, reeling at his audacity. He wasn't bothered in the least by her silence, and chose to continue. "I just want you to consider it, because I know you love me, too."

She sighed, a long, melodramatic exhale. "Bryn, I do. Just not like that, though. You're my best friend, and that's all. I don't feel anything more."

Brynjolf took a large, quick step forward, catching her off guard once more as his lips came crashing down on hers. He gently guided her backwards so that her back was pressed flush against the door to her room, trapping her in between the worn wood and his warm, broad chest. His lips moved against hers, with much more passion and urgency than before, and she gave a tiny gasp when she felt his hands move down from her waist to squeeze her bottom.

Despite wanting to push him away and wipe her mouth, knowing that she should, every muscle in her body seemed to take on a mind of its own, and soon she found herself deepening the kiss and reaching up her hands to tangle them in his hair. His mouth soon abandoned hers to leave a trail of searing kisses that dotted her neck and her jawline, and she found her breath quickening. While his lips were occupied with her collarbone, she buried her face in his hair and inhaled deeply. He smelled of sun-warmed leather, the ground after a midsummer's rain, the sharp, headiness of pine, and something else dark and masculine that she couldn't quite place her finger on, but was driving her absolutely _wild_. When he reached one hand upwards to grope and squeeze one of her breasts through her thin shirt, her breath hitched in her throat and she couldn't help but dig her nails deep into his back as he continued to nip at the delicate flesh of her neck. All of a sudden, he ended the moment, pulling away to look at her.

"Now," he said, breathing quick and ragged. "Tell me you didn't feel anything."

* * *

_A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Much love and appreciation to all of you. I'm feeling incredibly sick and gross, and I just wasn't sure if I was going to get this chapter up tonight. However, I remembered that I promised that I would, so I worked my big ol' butt off to finish it up. I hope you all enjoyed it. :)_

_What's next time, you ask? Well, we get to find out how Indis will respond to Brynjolf, Aventus will have a chat about his first kill, and we're going to be reunited with a certain chubby blond Nord. _


	15. A Daedra Never Forgets

**[Musical Inspiration: Pinesong - A Fine Frenzy; Meant - Elizaveta; Hoppipolla - Sigur Ros; Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey]**

* * *

Indis cleared her throat, casting her eyes downward as she took a few steps back, already feeling uncomfortable with the intensity of the moment. She took a deep breath, readying herself to speak in what she hoped was a strong, assertive tone, but all that came out was a husky croak.

"No," she said, trying her damnedest to avoid making even the briefest flash of eye contact, feeling incredibly embarrassed at the way she had just acted. "Nothing. I'm sorry, Brynjolf. I don't know what to tell you. I love my husband, and that's the end of that. I'm not going to leave Teldryn. Not now, not ever."

He sighed, thinking back to how her heart had raced, how she had knotted her fingers in his hair, and how she had moaned into his mouth just mere seconds ago. She finally looked up, eyes meeting his, and as hard as he tried, he could find no sign of dishonesty in them. Brynjolf sighed once more, wondering if she had been thinking about Teldryn during their kiss. "Are you sure, lass?" he asked, voice soft and hopeful, already knowing he was setting himself up to hear the same exact disappointing thing.

Indis nodded. "I'm absolutely certain, Brynjolf," she said, tone sharp. When she took in his crestfallen appearance, she reached out, gently placing one hand on his forearm. "You'll still be my best friend, right? I don't want this to change anything," she continued, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

"Of course," he replied, giving her a half-hearted smile. "Always."

A sharp, rapping knock at the door startled both of them and they jumped even further apart, glancing at the source of the noise. The door slowly opened, and a smiling Cynric poked his head inside before flinging the door wide open, allowing Israna and Casimir to run inside, with Teldryn, Aventus, and Erandur close behind.

Brynjolf watched her face light up at the sight of her family, an aching feeling invading his gut as he watched her embrace her children before reaching upwards to pull Teldryn into an obviously passionate kiss. "I'll be taking my leave," he said, motioning for Cynric to follow, heart sinking when he realized she hadn't even noticed he had left.

* * *

Brynjolf slid onto a chair at a table tucked away in a dark corner of the Winking Skeever, raising his hand to get the attention of the barkeep, calling out for the man to bring him a Colovian Brandy. He typically stuck to mead and ale, but he felt that he needed something a little stronger tonight.

He ignored it when Cynric took the seat across from him, disregarding the Breton's curious stare as he took a large gulp of his drink. "What do you want?" he grunted, throat stinging from the strong alcohol.

"Nothing," Cynric replied casually, tapping out a frantic uneven rhythm on the table with his fingers, something that annoyed Brynjolf a good deal more than it should have.

The redheaded Nord reached across the table, stilling Cynric's dancing hand. "You keep that up, and I'll snap those skinny little wrists of yours to get you to quit that racket."

Cynric frowned, jerking his hand away. "By the Divines, you're nasty when you drink. Or, is this about the boss tellin' you that she didn't love you back? I'll be honest, I'm surprised. Everyone assumed that you two have been goin' at it for years now, and we all thought those kids were yours. It gave me a shock when I saw that little Dunmer lookin' girl."

"Get the fuck out of my sight," Brynjolf spat, burying his face in his hands. "If you ever tell anyone what you overheard, it won't be pretty. Go. _Now_."

Brynjolf waited until Cynric had stormed off before he pushed aside his drink, resting his head on the table. He groaned loudly several times, earning the irritated glares of a few nearby patrons, wondering if he had just lost her as a friend by his actions.

He had brought her into the Guild almost six years ago, and she had become a fast friend from the beginning, and he had honestly been surprised when she had stuck around and had not only survived, but thrived.

She had become a close comrade and constant companion soon after joining, and when she wasn't off on a job or with that group that hunted vampires, they had spent nearly every moment together. Fun, lighthearted pickpocketing contests and goofy plans for major heists soon turned into late night soul-baring discussions. She sought his advice on her problems, her troubles, and he had held her as she cried over failed relationships, over the loss of an unborn child, and she had fallen asleep in his arms on more than one occasion. Indis had told him everything, including her reasons for leaving Cyrodiil, how she had nearly lost her head at Helgen—things she confessed that not even Teldryn knew.

Indis had proven herself to be a more than competent partner, and they'd completed more dangerous and daring robberies, burglaries and heists together than he could count. He wistfully recalled one of their more memorable ones in Solitude, completed during the middle of her pregnancy, where they had posed as a married pair of merchants during an attempt to swindle Vittoria Vici. He had never admitted it to anyone, but pretending to be the loving husband and the proud father-to-be had felt more perfect and right than he could ever express.

Now that he had tasted the possibilities, he hadn't been anywhere close to being sated, and he had left wanting so, so much more from her. He wanted to grow old and grey with her, have tiny, fat little half-Nord, half-Imperial children, he wanted to love her in this life and the Evergloam, to rob all of Tamriel blind together, fucking until one of them broke a hip. He had even ended his relationship with Tonilia for Indis, in hopes that she would realize that he was available, that he was absolutely, completely serious about her. She had never picked up on the connection, though. He wanted it _all_. He contemplated the possibility of her bare chest pressed against his, her lips brushing against his ear, the arch of her back as she—

"Sorry, is this seat taken?" asked a slightly slurred voice, jerking him out of his lustful musings. "What's your name, big boy? You look like you're having a rough time over here. Is it about a woman? It's always about a woman."

Brynjolf looked up, glaring at the source of the interruption. "Go fuck yourself."

"Go Fuck Yourself? Now that's an interesting name," chortled the Breton, pulling out the chair opposite the cross thief. "The name's Sam Guevenne. Nice to meet ya, Go Fuck Yourself."

* * *

Indis had her arms wrapped around Teldryn's waist, squeezing him as hard as she could. She buried her face in his chest and inhaled deeply, sighing with satisfaction. It wasn't until he was standing there in front of her that she realized just how much she had missed him.

"Easy there, m'sera," he gasped, gently prying her arms off of him. "You're crushing me."

She reluctantly loosened her grip before looking up at him. "I'm sorry. I've just missed you so much."

A polite cough interrupted their moment, and Teldryn was suddenly reminded of the presence of his brother. He turned, gesturing to the robed Dunmer behind them, clearing his throat. "Indis, this is…this is my brother. He was in Dawnstar."

Indis' eyes widened as she leaned to the side, staring at Erandur slightly slack-jawed, with her mouth hanging open in shock as she processed the information. "You found your brother?" she asked incredulously, looking back at Teldryn. "Casimir?"

"I actually go by Erandur now," the Dunmer replied, giving her a small smile. "I look forward to speaking with you more. I've heard quite a deal about you already. However, it looks as though my brother would like to be alone with you for the time being. Come now," he said, ushering Israna and Casimir away from Indis, ignoring their screeching protests.

Once the door had clicked shut behind Erandur, Indis pulled Teldryn's face down hers, engaging him in a searing kiss. "I've missed you so much," she sighed, her breath hitching in her throat as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt.

"I've missed you too," he growled, guiding her down onto the bed, working to remove the rest of her clothing before setting to work on his own. Once he had tossed aside his shirt, he slowly climbed on top of her, leaning down to bury his face in her neck.

She didn't expect the sensation of his arousal pressing into her, the heaviness of his body on top of hers, the feeling of him dominating her to cause Mercer and the incident in the catacombs to flash through her mind. Before she could stop herself, she instinctively pushed him off of her and yanked the blankets up to cover her bare body.

"I-I'm sorry, Tel," she apologized, wiping away a tear that had rolled down her cheek.

He frowned, watching her carefully as he reached out to grab one of her hands, squeezing it gently. "What happened, m'sera? I got a letter from Brynjolf, which is why we're here," he said, choosing to leave out that Brynjolf's phrasing had made him think that she was dead, and he had been a nervous wreck during the journey from Dawnstar.

"Mercer, h-he lured me into the catacombs. I thought he had Brynjolf down there," she said, pausing as she thought of the best way to tell him what had happened. "We fought, I lost badly and then…then he forced himself on me," she finished, letting out a choking sob before bursting into tears. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so stupid. I should have known better."

"Shh, it's not your fault," he replied, wrapping his arms around her, trying to maintain his boiling rage. "I'll murder him. I swear, I'll string that fetcher up by his entrails," he hissed, instinctively squeezing her tighter, reaching down to trace the carving on her hip that she had pointed to. "You aren't, are you…" he trailed off, miserable at the thought of Mercer impregnating her.

Indis shook her head. "No. Brynjolf bought me a potion to make sure that didn't happen. Oh, and Tel, I want to see Ralof," she began nervously, watching as he furrowed his brow. "I feel horrible about the way I treated him before we left, and I want to make up with him. This whole thing with Mercer made me think, and if anything happens and I don't make it out of this alive, I don't want to go never having apologized. I was going to send a letter asking him to meet us in Windhelm, if that's fine by you."

"As you wish," he said, reaching up to trace her lips with one finger. "I've no problem with it. Mercer, on the other hand…I'm going to fucking kill him. I swear."

She pulled away to lie back on the bed, giving a weak laugh. "No, no. You won't, because the honor of brutally murdering Mercer Frey will be mine," she said, pausing briefly. "Tel, is it alright if we don't? I just don't think I can."

"Of course," he replied, raising her hand to his lips, gently kissing her palm. "Not until you're ready."

Indis let out a relieved sigh as she settled into his arms, burying her face into the crook of his neck, falling into the first satisfied, restful sleep she would have since she had attempted to cross blades with Mercer.

* * *

Aventus sat slouched at the small table in the rented room he was sharing with his siblings and his uncle, letting out a long, melodramatic sigh. Erandur looked up at him, closing the book he had been reading. He sat quietly for a few seconds, hands clasped on his lap before speaking.

"Does something trouble you, Aventus?"

The teenager shifted in his seat, briefly glancing up into Erandur's calm red eyes. "No," he grunted, hoping his tone didn't betray him. "I just wish they'd shut up," he said, jerking his head towards Israna and Casimir, who were currently lying in their bed, huddled together as they giggled and whispered.

"They're troubling no one," the Dunmer replied patiently, still watching Aventus. "Now, tell me. Does the life you took trouble you? It would appear that was your first time using a blade in battle."

"No," Aventus lied, ignoring the fact that he had nearly pissed himself when the cultist came charging at him, disregarding the way his knees had almost given out and how bile had risen in his throat as he watched the man die. "It didn't bother me. Not one bit."

Erandur turned back to his book, the rustling sound of flipping pages filling the silence for several seconds until Aventus spoke again.

"Does it always feel like that?" he asked quietly, fiddling with his sleeve. "Killing, I mean. Do you ever get used to it?"

"It is no small thing to take a life, even if done in self-defense. It's normal for you to be feeling this way."

"Do you ever get used to it?"

"One can, although I hope you never do."

"How many men have you killed?"

Erandur gave him a wry smile. "Let's just say that I've killed more than my fair share, and leave it at that."

"I wanted to join the Dark Brotherhood, you know," Aventus sighed. He had been questioning this choice of plans ever since Nightcaller Temple. "I just don't know if I can now, though."

"Perhaps the Dark Brotherhood is not what you're meant to seek," Erandur remarked casually, standing up and stretching. "Perhaps the future holds something much different for you, Aventus."

Aventus sat quietly, wondering at the possibilities. "Perhaps."

* * *

Several of Sam Guevenne's special brews later, Brynjolf had spilled more about Indis to the man that he had ever planned on telling _anyone_.

"Can you believe it?" he grunted, scratching at the red stubble that dotted his chin. "All that, all I've done for her, everything I'm willin' to do, and she says I'm just a friend. That's all."

"Welp," Sam said after letting out a long, loud burp. "It sounds like she ought to be your woman, and she just hasn't realized it yet. Why don't you get out there and go do something about it?"

Brynjolf exhaled, surprised when he could smell the sour, stale scent of alcohol on his own breath. "What can I do 'bout it? I told her how I felt, and she didn't feel the same way. 'Sides," he grumbled, swatting at his tankard, not even flinching when he knocked it over. "She's married."

"I know, 'cause I did that!" the Breton crowed, letting out a hearty guffaw and another belch. "I performed the ceremony! However…as it turns out, it doesn't hold up unless it was performed by a priest o' Mara, or some shit like that. So, you're in luck my friend. She isn't actually married to this Feldrin Zero."

"Teldryn Sero. His name is Teldryn Sero. How would you know that it isn't legitimate anyhow?" Brynjolf asked with a scowl, recalling the information that Indis had passed onto him. "She said that it was recognized."

Sam looked up at him with a mischievous glint in his eye. "That's probably because I told 'em that it was. Even gave 'em this long list of fuckin' weird shit to do, sayin' that Mara herself wanted 'em to do it. I thought they weren't going to buy it, but oh, heh. They certainly did. Oh, and boy did they ever do it all!" he cackled, stomping his feet in delight.

The Nord shook his head, laughing. "You're makin' all of this up," he slurred, clapping Sam on the shoulder. "I appreciate you tryin' to make me feel better, though."

After a quick glance around the main room of the inn to ensure that they were alone, the robed Breton suddenly shrouded himself in a bright glowing light. Once the blue glow had faded, Brynjolf was no longer sitting across from Sam Guevenne, but a black and red, horned, impressively massive Daedra. Brynjolf squinted for a few seconds, studying his drinking companion's new form before turning back to his spilled brew, poking at the liquid that was now in a large, messy puddle on the table.

"You look different."

"Aren't you a bright one?" Sanguine replied, letting out a throaty chuckle. "I'll tell ya what. You and I have a little fun tonight, make a little mayhem, and I'll see to it that you get a wife out of it. I'll even make sure one of Mara's priests is there to make sure it actually counts this time. What do you say?"

Brynjolf stared at him for a few seconds, green eyes bloodshot and glassy, before he grinned. He stood, nodding enthusiastically before tossing a mead bottle onto the ground, laughing as it shattered. The Daedra watched him amble away, already excited at the promise. His Champion had shoved the token of his favor, his Sanguine Rose, deep away in a forgotten chest. Motherhood had made her incredibly dull and obnoxiously serious, and she seemed to have entirely forgotten the promises of debauchery and wickedness that she had once made. It was time to remind her of those obligations.

He _so_ enjoyed wreaking havoc and chaos in the lives of mortals.

* * *

"Cynric, have you seen Brynjolf?" Indis asked, tapping the young Breton thief on the shoulder. "Our ship to Windhelm is about to leave, and I wanted to tell him goodbye," she said, hoping that he wasn't going to be avoiding her after their incredibly awkward conversation.

Cynric shook his head. "Nope, sorry boss. I haven't seen him around. He may have gone out somewhere."

Indis sighed, hoisting her bag up over her shoulder. "Whenever you find him, would you tell him that I'll see him back in Riften? Please, be safe when travelling back. I don't want anything to happen to either of you."

* * *

"I'll be honest, I was surprised when I received your letter," said a beaming Ralof, looking back and forth between Indis and Teldryn. "It had been so long that I'd thought that you forgot about me, or worse, you two were dead."

Indis smiled, reaching over to squeeze his arm. "We're obviously not. It's so good to see you, Ralof. I'm sorry about the way I treated you all those years ago," she apologized, feeling guilt niggle at her gut. "I thought it was as good a time as any to make up, to say that I'm sorry."

"To say that _we're_ sorry," Teldryn corrected. "I wasn't exactly kind to you, either. How has life at the College been treating you?"

Ralof shrugged. "It's fine. I've made good friends, and I don't have to live off of the charity of my sister any longer. I've been studying destruction and enchanting, made a fair bit of gold off enchanting weapons. Although, there is something," he said nervously, pausing as he thought of Ancano, the Thalmor wizard that had made his home in Winterhold. "It can wait until later," he said, mustering up another smile. "Let's speak of something else, though."

* * *

Ralof had gone to his room after a few hours of talking, citing his long journey from Winterhold as a reason for his weariness, leaving Indis and Teldryn together at a small table. They continued to talk and drink late into the night. Teldryn had moved his chair closer to hers and had wrapped one of his long, muscular arms around her slim shoulders. His other hand was resting in her lap, his fingers intertwined through hers, a calloused thumb brushing back and forth across her tiny knuckles. She had continued to lean in closer and closer until her head was resting on his chest. Her hair had fallen across her face, and he reached up to brush it out of her eyes, fingers lingering as he fidgeted with the dark auburn tresses in his hands. She had tilted her head upwards and wrapped one hand around his neck to draw him in for a kiss when the loud, obnoxious voice of Rolff Stone-Fist spewing his usual racist rant about the Dunmer interrupted them.

Indis stood up, heart pounding furiously against her ribcage, the hot, angry tears welling up in her eyes in danger of spilling over. Rolff seemed oblivious to the furious woman standing mere feet away from him, continuing his racist rant.

"I don't know why we even let these motherfucking greyskins into our city," he bellowed, drawing uncomfortable stares from Nords and Dunmer alike. "I say we ought to set fire to the Grey Quarter, purge that filth once and for all."

"Stop it," she said, voice wavering slightly at first. "Shut your gods-damned mouth, Rolff Stone-Fist."

The drunk, belligerent Nord turned, surprised to see the words coming from a tiny, furious Imperial woman, clutching the arm of an appropriately angry and exasperated Dunmer man. "Oh, what's this?" he asked, sauntering towards them. "It looks like we've got a new nasty Elf in Windhelm, along with his greyskin loving whore, it would appear."

"You shut your filthy mouth right now, or I will tear you a new asshole so wide it'll open a gate to Oblivion," she hissed, pulling away from Teldryn.

"Oh, you think you could take me on? 100 septims says I could beat your tiny ass to the ground. I will tear you to pieces, bitch," he growled, tossing aside the mead bottle he had been holding.

"Indis, no," Teldryn sighed, reaching out for her. "Don't. Don't bother with him. He's not worth it. We don't have time to deal with every racist, ignorant s'wit in Skyrim."

She ignored Teldryn as she stormed towards Rolff, stopping right in front of him. "You're on," she said, eyes narrowing as she prodded him in the middle of his chest. "Prepare yourself for the beating of your life, you stupid, ugly fuck."

After giving her a tense smile, Rolff stepped backwards, throwing his arm behind him as he barreled towards her. The momentum behind the punch undoubtedly would have knocked the wind out of Indis, had she not stepped out of the way in time. As she moved out of the line of fire, she stuck her foot out, causing the drunken Nord to trip and tumble forward. She bent down and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him upwards.

"That wasn't fair," he gasped, looking up at her with a glare. "That wasn't fair!"

"Fair? I don't fight fair," she said, grinning wickedly as she tapped the shoulder of her Thieves Guild armor.

He glowered at her, catching her off guard as he slammed his head backwards into her face, the sound of his skull making contact with her nose creating a loud, sickening crunch. She stumbled backwards, desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood. The howls and jeers from the patrons of the inn drowned out Indis' cursing, and she looked up just in time to see Rolff blundering towards her. She removed her hand from her face, swinging her newly formed fist just as he arrived, hitting him square in the jaw. Before he could react, her knee swung upwards, knocking the wind out of his stomach.

In a matter of seconds, the tides had turned against him, and for one, fleeting moment he worried that he would be losing this particular brawl. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an empty wine bottle sitting within his reach. His hand shot outwards, wrapping around the neck of the bottle, and beore she could react, he brought it down hard on Indis' face. Onlookers fell silent as the Imperial thief collapsed to her knees, crumpling to the floor in unconsciousness.

* * *

_A/N: There you go! You get a chapter early because you were all so upset about her little smooching session with Brynjolf. I thought everyone would be pleased when she showed Brynjolf where the friend zone was and told him to take a seat in it. Give me high-fives, throw stale bread at me, leave a review, whatever. I hope you enjoyed it. :)_

_Also, _

_In other news if you like the Dawnguard and Clan Volkihar, Moonflower04 and I are pleased to announce that we'll be working on a collaborative piece focusing on the wonderful, underappreciated Valerica. It should be up sometime in the next 2-3 weeks. The title is still pending, but here's the summary, written by the lovely Moonflower04 herself:_

_A once loving mother, a disdainful wife, and a cowardly, hide away vampire are all titles Valerica has encompassed over the years. But she wasn't always known that way; this is the story of a woman who gave up everything she had, to protect the one thing that mattered most – her daughter, Serana._

_Go check out Moonflower04's work! It's pretty great stuff. Feel free to PM either of us if you have any questions. :)_


	16. The Man of Twists and Turns

_Freezing, it's fucking freezing in here. Why the fuck is it so cold_, were Indis' first thoughts as her eyes flew open at the sound of a window slamming shut. She shivered instinctively as the gust of cold air that had found its way inside made contact with her bare arms. She sat up, lazily scanning the bedroom she had absolutely no idea how she got into, fumbling for her weapon, any weapon when she spotted the figure sitting in the corner.

"Calm down," he drawled, swinging his feet up to prop them on a nearby table. "I'm not going to do anything to you."

"Fuck you, Mercer," she spat, knuckles turning white from the furious grip she had on her bed sheets. "I don't believe you."

His nostrils flared in indignation and his tongue darted out unconsciously to wet his lips. Mercer stared at her silently, eyes never leaving her as he slowly, deliberately unsheathed the dagger at his hip. Indis tensed, and Mercer gave a small snort of amusement as he slid the tip gently underneath the nail of his index finger and began the tedious process of cleaning under his nails.

"I told you that I wasn't going to do anything to you," he grumbled, his voice even more rough and grating than usual. The dry chill of Windhelm had left his throat raw. "You're going to lose sight in that eye, you know. Don't let that little blond mage friend of yours tell you otherwise," he remarked nonchalantly, gesturing to her face.

She raised one hand, gently prodding the linen bandage that covered one eye, tightly bound around the rest of her head. _Rolff Stone-Fist_, she bitterly mused, the memory of the brawl with him flooding her all at once. She had seen him reach for the empty bottle, and despite the manner in which he slowly fumbled for it, by the time her mind had processed what was happening, it was already too late.

Giving Mercer another stony glare, she untangled her limbs from the warm bedding, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Stretching, she stood, and then she made her way over to the clouded mirror that hung lopsided on one wall. Indis began the process of delicately unwinding the binding, letting out a heaving sigh once it had slipped out of her hands and slowly fluttered to the floor. There were no scars around her eye, no traces of the shards of glass that had no doubt been plucked from her face while she was insentient; no traces of the attack save for the milky white color of her right eye. Covering her left eye with one palm, it took a fraction of a second to discover that Mercer had been somewhat correct. She could still see, but everything was blurry, fuzzy. Indis lowered her hand, scowling at her reflection with her one good eye.

"I used to be so pretty, too," she remarked glumly, making a feeble attempt at what she had intended to be a joke, but instead was a genuinely vain lament.

She watched Mercer shrug in the reflection. "You still are," he remarked, placidly watching her. "You always have been."

Indis whipped around, glaring at him with furious tears in her eyes, fingernails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists. "How can you just sit there like that? Act like that, after everything you've done," she said, voice escaping as a choking sob. "How can you act like you're not a dried piece of shit on a skeever's asshole, especially after what you did to _me_?"

Before he could react, she had already darted across the room, lunging at him. The chair he was in toppled backwards and they both crashed to the ground, with Indis on top of him, arms swinging as she pommeled him, drawing blood as her nails dug into his face. He would have none of it, and he soon had wrapped his hands around her forearms, and had flipped her onto her back, positioning himself above her once more.

The moment in the Solitude catacombs came rushing back as he straddled her, and Indis immediately felt her heart thud a violent rhythm against her ribcage, bile rise in her throat, and tears well up in her eyes. "Mercer, no," she begged, surprised when his grip slackened immediately. Despite feeling him ease up, he continued to hold onto her arms as he hovered above her, a slight shiver running over her body as a strange look passed over his face. When Indis looked into his eyes, she saw something desperate, something pleading. He parted his thin, chapped lips to speak, but seemed to change his mind.

"Get off," she said, voice a low hiss as she tried to wriggle out from underneath him, hoping the tears now freely streaming down her face didn't make her look weak. "One scream and Teldryn will be here in two seconds."

One of her arms broke free, and she raised it to strike him. Mercer caught her wrist with a sigh, running the pad of his thumb over the lines that raced across her palm. He dropped her hand, clambering off of her before straightening the chair so that it was upright again, making himself comfortable in it once more.

"That won't be happening," he said, letting out a harsh, barking laugh. "You were unconscious when he beat the shit out of that fucker who smashed that bottle over your face. A couple of guards came and hauled both of them away. They'll both be spending a fair amount of time in a Windhelm jail cell."

She frowned, placing one hand on the top of the nearby dresser, using it to steady herself as she clambered to her feet. Rifling through the knapsack resting on the dresser, she flung aside her Nightingale armor, searching for a warmer robe or dressing gown. Indis glanced up briefly as Mercer picked up the armor, an indecipherable look passing over his face as he gripped it tightly, staring down as the deep midnight leather.

"I can't believe you took the Oath. I can't believe you swore yourself to _her_," he remarked bitterly, voice incredulous.

Indis shrugged, pulling on a robe before settling cross-legged on the edge of the bed. "It's not that big a deal. I thought you already knew. Why else would you have gone on about Nocturnal in…in…you know," she said, unable to bring herself to mention the catacombs once more.

"I thought Karliah was just spewing that nonsense, getting into your head. I didn't know that you had actually gone through the same Nightingale bullshit."

"It doesn't matter. It's just the business of thieves."

He stared at her quietly, following the silence with peals of laughter. "The business of thieves? Oh, oh no. Picking the lock on one of these ridiculous, grandiose houses, stealing the family's valuables, and fencing them, that's the business of thieves, Indis. Swearing yourself to eternally serve a Daedra who couldn't give two shits about you? That's something entirely different."

"What is it, then?"

His brow creased as he mulled over his response, finally speaking in a soft, worn tone. "Foolishness."

The moment stretched out, and Indis coughed uncomfortably, shifting on the bed. After long, drawn out silence, Mercer spoke once more. "You shouldn't have come with me to Snow Veil Sanctum," he groaned, running one hand over the white stubble that dotted his chin and jaw. "If you hadn't, we wouldn't even be in this position. We could have been—" he said, stopping suddenly.

"You think that this business with Gallus and Karliah would have never come to light if I hadn't come with you? I don't think so. If I hadn't been there to block her shot, her arrow would have hit you, and you would have been dragged back to the Guild," she pointed out. "Either way, things weren't going end well," surprising herself with her final words. "Perhaps it wasn't meant to be. Fate, or some such nonsense like that."

His shoulders slouched, and he slumped forward dejectedly. "I suppose so."

He looked so pitiful to her, with the greasy grey-blond hair that hung in his exhausted eyes, the bruised, purple bags that puffed out from underneath his eyes. In spite of herself, she found herself reaching over to gently place one hand on his forearm. "Come back to Riften with us, stand before the Guild to atone for your wrongdoings. Give me the Skeleton Key," she said in a moment of madness. "I'll see what I can—"

Mercer jerked away from her, his signature scowl returning. "Are you a moron? You think Karliah, Brynjolf, and the whole lot of them are going to let me walk in there? You think that I'm just going to let you serve me up to them on a silver platter? Moron," he scoffed, folding his arms over his chest.

"Then just give me the Skeleton Key, and perhaps the Guild will be a little less ruthless in their hunt for you," she said, excitedly holding out one palm as she gazed into his fathomless eyes, recalling everything her fellow Nightingale had told her, eager to inspect, even test, its promises of power. "I can't promise anything, but perhaps if the Key is returned and you leave Skyrim, well…perhaps that might be enough."

He flipped open a pocket on his faded, muddied Guild Master armor, slim fingers emerging with a shimmering bronze key, topped with a black stone adorned with glimmering, glowing pale green designs. Rolling it back and forth between his palms, he sighed. "Thirty years I've had this. It almost feels like it's a part of me," he considered, and Indis watched as his pupils dilated and his breathing quickened. "Everything I've done with this Key, everything I've gotten."

"Let me have it," she breathed, waiting patiently for him to deposit it in her hands. She let out a tiny gasp when he tossed it to her and she caught it, gripping it as tightly as she could.

Mercer suddenly stood, his face hardening once more. "Don't think that this is over. It isn't by a long shot. Karliah, Brynjolf, even you. You're all going to come after me still, I know it. I'll be ready, and I'll be waiting. This," he said, gesturing to the key clutched in her hands before leaning down closer to her. She coughed, turning away from the stench of his stale breath. "This changes absolutely nothing. I'm still going to be proceeding as I planned."

He pushed her out of the way, flinging the window open once more, turning back to look at her. She was ignoring him, enraptured by the Key, and he could see her mind already furiously at work, contemplating the many possibilities it presented. The corners of his lips twitched upwards in a sly smile, pleased at this new turn of events. Indis shivered as the cold night air swept in, looking up, startled to see that he was still there.

"I don't understand you, Mercer Frey."

As he flung one leg over the windowsill, he let out one last hearty guffaw. "You will. One day, Indis. One day, you will."

* * *

Indis reached up, ready to slide the deadbolt on the door, shocked to see that Mercer hadn't even bothered to lock it. _Almost like he was begging to get caught_, she silently pondered as she twisted the doorknob, stepping out into the hallway. She slung her pack over her shoulder, setting out towards the exit of Candlehearth.

"Indis? What are you doing? You shouldn't be up. You should go back to bed and get some rest. For your eye, you know."

She stopped, turning to see Ralof peeking his head out of the bedroom next to hers, bright blue eyes watching with concern.

"Ralof, I'm fine. Healing magic obviously took care of it," she replied, pointing to her one white eye.

He shook his head. "It's still healing, it will be—"

"It's done, Ralof. I'm blind in that eye now, and its fine. I always shut it when I shot my bow, anyway," she said with a shrug, setting off once more.

He jogged to catch up with her, holding the door that led to Windhelm open for her. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get my husband out of jail. You can come along if you'd like," Indis said, her teeth chattering as she stepped out into the cold. Her Nightingale armor was wonderful for slipping undetected through the darkness, but it didn't do much to keep her warm. She lowered her hand, patting the small pocket at her hip to ensure that the Skeleton Key was in place, already excited to put it to use.

Ralof reached one hand up, awkwardly swatting at the thick snowflakes that were beginning to fall. "Actually, I hope you don't mind if I stay put. I never went back to the Stormcloaks after that incident with the Thalmor, and I'm not sure how I would be received after all this time if someone happened to notice me. If anyone even remembered who I was," he sighed, glancing up at the Palace of the Kings wistfully.

"Suit yourself," she smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll be back soon."

* * *

After aimlessly creeping through the Palace as quietly as she could, ducking into dimly lit alcoves whenever a guard rounded a corner, and looking into every room she encountered, she still hadn't managed to find where the jail cells were. She was currently in a large office of some sort, and while she hadn't managed to find the actual jail, she had located a ledger with records of all prisoners.

"There we go," she muttered to herself, pleased as she dipped the quill in the nearby inkwell once more, putting a final flourish on the forged entries that would erase Teldryn from the memory of the Windhelm jail and would ensure that Rolff Stone-Fist languished and rotted for as long as possible.

She sat there quietly, admiring her work when a loud cough jerked her out of her stupor, and the rich, familiar timbre of the Jarl she had hoped to never see again broke the silence.

"Well met, Dragonborn."

* * *

_A/N: This was initially going to be part of another chapter, but I decided to split it up so it wouldn't be so darn long for you guys._

_What do you think Mercer is up to? Sneaky, sneaky bastard._

_Next chapter, Indis will be back with the Guild and Sanguine will be up to more mischief. Leave me some love and if you guys really, really want me to, I'll see what I can do about getting that posted tomorrow. :)_

_Thanks for reading!_


	17. The Minx and the Bear

"Jarl Ulfric," Indis said as coolly, as calmly as she could manage. She swung her feet upwards so that they were resting on the desk, hopefully obscuring the ledger she had been fiddling with just moments ago. "You're looking well. I see you got my gift," she continued, pointing to the patch that covered his left eye, surprised that he hadn't shoved it away in a drawer to be forgotten.

He took the seat opposite from her, an unreadable look crossing his face. For the briefest of moments, Indis was glad that there was a sturdy wood desk in between them. "As do you," he finally said, leaning back to make himself comfortable. "Although, I do believe you weren't blind last time we met."

Indis scoffed. "This?" she said, pointing to the bright white eye. "I have Rolff Stone-Fist to thank for it. He seems to think that smashing a wine bottle on your opponent's face falls under the definition of what constitutes a fair brawl."

Ulfric laughed. "So you're the reason Rolff will be rotting away in a jail cell for some time," he replied, nearly making her heart stop when he reached over and took the ledger from the desk. His eye scanned the page, a finger following along. "Ah, but there seems to be a mistake…there was another man, beat him quite badly, he should be listed as well. We should probably correct that, hmm? Have you been wandering around the Palace looking for the jail cells? You missed it. The first door to your right after you entered."

Indis stifled a groan as she watched the Jarl correct Teldryn's entry, the scratch of the quill on parchment the only sound for several seconds. "Dammit!" she cried out, quickly standing. "Can't you just let him go? Rolff got what was coming to him."

The Jarl inspected her quietly for a few seconds, his eye raking over her form, taking in the tantalizingly tight armor she wore, the halo of messy auburn hair, and the angry red flush of her cheeks. "You're quite pretty, you know. For an Imperial, that is," he added with a haughty sniff, wanting to ensure he included that disclaimer. He looked up at her once more, wondering what it would be like to bed a Nordic legend.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Is that so? Well, you would be handsome, if it wasn't for that big fuckin' nose on your face. I'll bet that if I stood on the surface of Secunda and looked down at Skyrim, I could see it."

He unconsciously reached up and touched his face, a deep scowl forming. "Are you finished insulting my appearance, Dragonborn?"

"Honestly, I don't even know how you keep your head up with that thing on there," she continued, her face breaking into a smile. "Oh, yes. I think I am finished now."

"Rude, crass wench."

"Racist, fat cocksucker."

"Awful, vulgar whore. You smell of skooma and rotten snowberries."

"I think you're a general offense, and everyone should take it upon themselves to beat you."

A prolonged, heavy silence stretched between them as they glared at each other as best they could, each secretly hoping that their one-eyed fury would be enough to unsettle the other. After this continued for what seemed like an age, Indis finally spoke. "Where are all of the women?" she asked, aimlessly gesturing to the expansive Palace that lay behind her. "It's a sausage festival in here, don't you know it? It's all men, all over the place."

"I don't understand."

"Never mind," she said, giving a long, exasperated sigh.

His frown deepened, and he stood so that he was leaning over the desk, no doubt hoping to intimidate her. "Where have you been, Dragonborn? Many thought you were dead due to your prolonged absence."

"I've been gone. I had some other obligations. Let's just leave it at that. Oh, and I have a name, you know. It's not Dragonborn," she added on forcefully, folding her arms over her chest. "I'll bet you don't even remember it."

"It's hard to forget the name of the woman who took my eye, _Indis_," he said bitterly. "What were these obligations that were so important you had to abandon Skyrim when she needed you most?"

"Skyrim needed me? _Me_?" she chortled, clutching her sides as she laughed. "I don't think so. To answer your question, I had children. That's why I was gone. I'm sure it's a reason that's not nearly satisfactory enough for you."

"I didn't know. Congratulations. A boy or a girl?"

"One of both, actually," she said with a smile as she thought of Israna and Casimir, who were likely sound asleep in the Inn at this hour. "Twins."

Ulfric surprised her with a genuinely kind smile. "Congratulations, once again. Perhaps one of them will be Dragonborn."

Indis sighed. "I certainly hope not. I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

He cocked an eyebrow, staring at her quizzically. "It's a great honor, to be the Dragonborn. There are many people who would gladly trade places with you."

She shrugged. "If you say so. I can't imagine anyone wanting this. You know what I wanted? To run the Guild and raise a family. That's it."

"The Guild? Ah, yes. The Thieves Guild. I recall hearing something about your association with that rabble."

"As much as I'd like to stay here and chat about stupid shit, such as being Dragonborn, I have much more important things to do."

"Such as?"

"Such as get my husband out of jail. Now, if you'll excuse me."

He held up one hand, motioning for her to stop as a sly smile worked his way across his face. "I have an offer for you, Dra—Indis," he said, managing to correct himself. "Spend the night with me, and I'll not only ensure that your husband's record here in Windhelm is wiped clean, but Rolff Stone-Fist will be spending a little extra time in prison. What do you say? We're going to do this on my terms, Dragonborn."

She gnawed on her lip thoughtfully. All of it was incredibly tempting, save for the part that involved fucking Ulfric Stormcloak. After what had happened with Mercer, she had found herself shying away from intimate contact, and the Jarl of Windhelm was the last man that she wanted to get close with. _Just say yes. You've wormed your way out of tougher situations in the past. You'll figure something out_, she told herself, hoping that she would manage this time as well.

The corners of her mouth quirked upwards in a smile and when she finally spoke, she tried to make her voice as low and husky as possible. "Although I doubt you could keep up with me, it would be my pleasure."

* * *

Indis wiped the spittle from her chin, grimacing as the thick, wet liquid made contact with the back of her hand. She had allowed him to kiss her, but she had managed to put that at an end as soon as she got him into the perfect position. Thank the Divines she didn't have to endure that for very long.

"You crazy bitch," he spat, his voice a low growl. She turned around, suppressing a giggle when she was met with the sight of a naked Ulfric tightly bound to the chair she had been comfortably lounging in previously. He wriggled and writhed, struggling to break free, but it was to no avail. "Cut me loose."

"Oh, stop your fussing. If anyone has the right to complain, it should be me. A grown man, your age, not knowing how to properly kiss a woman! You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she chided playfully, placing her hands on her hips as she stood in front of him. "I thought I was going to drown in all that drool. Well, if you didn't gnaw my face off first. At least you have a big cock," she continued, staring at him thoughtfully. "So, there's something."

He watched as she pulled a dagger out and sliced away a long, thin strip of a nearby tapestry, his angry protestations and curses cut off as she wound it around his head, gagging him. "I don't want to have you shouting for help, eh? Either kind of shout," she laughed, looking down at the nude, gagged man in satisfaction.

Ulfric continued to glare at her and squirm out of his bindings as he watched her flit around the small office, grabbing gems, potions, and anything else she deemed valuable. "Those should all fetch a wonderful price," she noted, stopping by the desk once more. She grabbed the quill resting on the desk, but seemed to change her mind. After a few moments of silent contemplation, she snatched up the ledger with the prison records with a smirk. "I'll be taking this, I think."

He grunted, wishing that she hadn't thought of gagging him. _Incorrigible little minx_, he thought to himself, watching as she stuffed a few final items into her pack.

She paused, bending down right in front of him, so close that their noses were almost touching, taking in his fury, humiliation, and a deeper, unreadable something that she just couldn't quite figure out. "You're a clever man, Jarl Ulfric. Just not clever enough," she said, patting his cheek with a playful smirk, trying to stifle a laugh as she glanced back at the furious Jarl one last time. "I'll be seeing you around, I'm sure of it."

* * *

With a bag brimming with stolen goods slung over one shoulder, and the prison ledger tucked safely under one arm, Indis set to work retracing her steps to the entrance of the Palace. She kept her eyes wide open and her ears sharp. It wouldn't do to get caught skulking around near the Jarl's chambers in the wee early hours of the morning. Briefly ducking into an alcove, she pulled her cowl back down over her head as she waited for a pair of chatty, gossipy guards to pass by, completely oblivious to her presence.

She continued to deftly maneuver through the Palace unnoticed, walking with the shadows, finally passing through the door that led to the guard barracks. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she ducked underneath a table, waiting with bated breath until the guard loudly smacking and munch on a sweet roll had passed by. She bristled uncomfortably at the sound of the man sloppily eating, letting out a relieved sigh as his footsteps gradually faded away. A quick peek out was enough to inform her that there was no one around, save for the few sleeping guards nestled in their beds. Indis rose, continuing her journey towards the jail as she stealthily crept along. After passing by a snoring guard, she had arrived at her destination.

"Tel?" she asked quietly, eyes scanning the cells, breaking into a light jog when she spotted Teldryn sitting on the ground in one near the back.

"Indis? What are you doing here? I'm fine, you should just go. I'll be fine," he said, quickly clambering to his feet.

She reached through the bars, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. "Shh," she whispered firmly, her free hand already fumbling for the Skeleton Key. "Just wait a few seconds, and I'll have you out of there in no time at all."

After pulling the Key out, she slid it into the lock and set to work, surprised at the strength and difficulty of the lock that kept Teldryn confined. The weak little picks she usually carried with her would have snapped given enough time, but the Key proved to be resilient. _Oh, you are absolutely wonderful, you little beauty_, she silently marveled as the lock clicked open. _I might have to hang onto you for a little bit longer._

The door to the cell swung open, and Teldryn quickly stepped forward into Indis' embrace, readily accepting the passionate kiss she planted on his lips. "We should get going," she breathed, breaking away to tug him along behind her. "We don't want to linger in Windhelm for too long."

Teldryn groaned, somehow feeling as though his jailbreak had nothing to do with their need to make a hasty exit. "What did you do to the Jarl this time, Indis?"

A wicked grin formed on her face. "Come on. I'll tell you on the way to Riften."

* * *

"I told you, Galmar," Ulfric grumbled, pulling his robe tighter around him. "It was a group of thieves. All big, hulking men. That's who you should be looking for."

Galmar Stone-Fist suppressed a laugh at the sight before him, wondering if Ulfric would ever come clean and fess up about who had really left him naked and bound to a chair. He had seen the look on his face, the fire in his eyes, and had known without a doubt it was _her_.

"As you wish, Ulfric," Galmar replied simply, giving him a short nod. "I'll alert the guards to be on the lookout for a large group of massive thieves. Is there anything else you need?"

Ulfric waved his hand dismissively, turning back to gaze blankly into the fire before him. "No, that will be all, Galmar. Good night."

As Galmar turned to leave, he glanced back one time, taking in the Jarl's sullen look, the crease in his brow, and his apparent look of deep contemplation and he knew that Ulfric was not anywhere close to being finished with Indis Mero.

* * *

_A/N: I'm so sorry I didn't get to fit Sanguine's mischief into this chapter! The scene with Ulfric just kind of dragged out and ended up being a good deal longer than I thought it would be. Don't worry, we'll get to see what happens with him next chapter. I promise. :)_


	18. Uncle Sanguine Comes to Town

"Ah, it's good to be back in Riften," Indis said, giving a long, satisfied sigh. They had taken a carriage south from Windhelm, and she had enjoyed seeing the Rift in the throes of autumn. The vivid oranges, yellows, and reds of the crisp, falling leaves, the wonderfully cool air, and the painfully bright blue sky was a welcome to the icy, dull grey that she had become accustomed to while living at Castle Volkihar. "I had forgotten just how much I missed it here."

Teldryn sat down a pile of bags, taking in the interior of Riftweald Manor. "It's incredibly clean, given that we haven't lived here, or even visited, in years."

Indis picked up Israna, who was busy fondling and groping the breasts of the Dibella statuette sitting on a nearby shelf, motioning for Teldryn to follow her. "That's because I asked Rune to look after the place while we were gone. I also had him get a few of these unused rooms furnished. He seemed to be the best candidate for the job," she added on, recalling that she had also briefly considered Thrynn and Vipir for the task, but had quickly pushed that idea aside when she thought of what might happen if she had left it to them. "Remind me that I need to pay him."

Teldryn nodded before unceremoniously dumping all of Israna and Casimir's belongings into a large chest. "There, that ought to do it. It looks like we've gotten them all unpacked, so I'm going to go see if Erandur, Ralof, and Aventus need any help. Stop that," he scolded, turning to Casimir, who had already begun testing his bed by jumping up and down on it. The little boy stopped, and then crumpled onto the bed, glaring up at them sullenly.

Indis sighed after he left before turning her attention to the massive, jumbled mess he had left behind. "Fuckin' men," she mumbled, hoping neither of the children heard her. She knelt down by the chest and began to remove everything, taking care to stack books to be put on the shelves in the room, placing their toys aside, and finally set forth to sorting and folding the messy pile of clothing.

"I help, Mama," Israna said, pulling off the dress she was wearing before trying to awkwardly fold it. After finishing with the dress she had just been wearing, she snatched one up from the pile on the floor and set to work.

"Izzy put your clothes on. It's not proper to…oh, never mind," she replied, still weary from their journey. She had learned to pick her battles with them, and at the moment, it wasn't something she cared enough about to fuss about. "Don't do that outside in the city or around others, though. Actually, just try not to strip down naked for no reason. Understand? Cas, love, would you take these books over to that shelf?"

After climbing out of his new bed, he happily obliged, taking each book, one by one, over to the nearby bookshelf. "Story?" he asked, pointing to a book after he had tugged on her sleeve to get her attention.

Indis shook her head. "Sorry, not right now. After we're done unpacking here, how would you two like to come to the Cistern with me and meet the Thieves Guild?" she paused, waiting as they both bobbed their heads enthusiastically before quickly getting back to their work.

* * *

"Pull the chain," Indis said, motioning to the chain that hung on the wall. She had just pressed the button that revealed the secret entrance to the Thieves Guild, and as the crypt that covered it had slid back with a loud, grating sound, both Israna and Casimir had stared at it in wonder. "That'll hide the entrance again."

Both of them clumsily reached up and yanked on it together, and by the time they scrambled back to her side, she had already flung open the rotting wood cover that sealed the ladder to the Cistern. "I'll go down first, and then I'll grab you."

She set forth down the ladder, noticing Thrynn standing nearby. She called out to get his attention, and once he had arrived at the base of the ladder, she handed Israna and Casimir to him in turn.

"Good to see ya, boss," he said gruffly, setting Casimir down. He paused, eyes wandering over her form. "Your tits have gotten bigger. I like it."

"It's good to see you too, Thrynn," she sighed, folding her arms over her chest as she wondered how Mercer had managed to put up with the lot of them for so long. _No wonder he had that permanent scowl, the one that looked like he had just smelled a draugr's asshole_, she silently thought to herself. After a few seconds of silence, she gave him a small smile. "It's good to be back. Where is everyone?"

"It's good to have ya back. Out on jobs, or in the Flagon drinking. Come on, and I'll take ya to 'em. I think Brynjolf might be in his room, doing work, or some shit like that," he said, stopping briefly by a wardrobe. He yanked it open, pulling out a little doll. He turned, kneeling down by Israna. "You like dolls, little girl?"

Israna nodded enthusiastically, happily accepting the doll Thrynn held out to her, looking up at him with bared teeth. _Gods, I need to teach her how to smile properly. She looks like a little wolf or a slaughterfish. No wonder people are terrified of her_, Indis lamented to herself, just happy that she hadn't bitten him…yet. "Thank you, Thrynn. Say thank you, Izzy."

The little girl muttered a quick thanks before she swung the doll back, attempting to hit Thrynn with it, but his reflexes were far too sharp for her, and he dodged it just in time. "You're welcome. Don't go tryin' to hit me, though. Bad things happen to people who do that," he growled, kneeling down in front of her, laughing when her eyes widened nervously. "Now, I think we have some wooden swords around here somewhere. We robbed a caravan a few weeks ago, and it turned out to be filled with nothing but toys. Come on, and let's get to the Flagon."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't mind watching over them?" Indis asked, looking the man up and down who was excitedly clutching the broom that was never far from his side. "I'll just go ahead and warn you now, they can be a handful."

Vekel nodded. "I don't mind, not one bit. I've been after Tonilia to have some of our own, but she hasn't exactly warmed up to the idea. She still won't even marry me," he sighed despondently, briefly glancing at his Redguard lover before motioning for Israna and Casimir to follow him.

Indis thanked him profusely once more, before turning back towards the table that her fellow Guild members were seated at. As she pulled out her chair and made herself comfortable, she tried to ignore the smoldering glare Tonilia was sending her way. They hadn't ever hit it off, and their relationship had only worsened as time progressed. Indis had the tiniest niggling feeling that Brynjolf was part of the reason why.

"Good to see you again, boss. I hope the journey wasn't too difficult? It's been awful quiet without you around," Delvin Mallory said, his kind eyes crinkling as he smiled at her. Indis had always liked the chubby Breton man, and he had become one of her closest friends during her time in Riften.

She shook her head. "No, it wasn't too bad at all. It was quite pleasant, actually. A very welcome change from the northern coast," she said, waiting as Vekel placed several flagons of mead in front of them. "Has Brynjolf told any of you anything?"

"Just that Mercer nearly killed Gulum-Ei, and that's it. It didn't sound like there wasn't too much else to say," Vex said, running a hand through her white-blonde locks. "He did sound pretty worried, though."

"True, there wasn't much. All we learned was that Mercer has 'big plans', whatever that may mean."

Karliah furrowed her brow, her slim, dark fingers beginning to tap an erratic rhythm on the wooden table. "What does that mean? Indis, when you found his plans for Irkngthand and the Eyes of the Falmer, did you find anything else?"

"No, unfortunately, I didn't find anything else," she said, trailing off, stopping to consider the possibility. "Of course, there could be something else in Riftweald. We found so many secret hiding spots in that place, it's absolutely mad. We also never got around to checking through every room, since the place is huge."

"Then it sounds like a good place to start," Delvin replied with a shrug. "We don't have much else to go on, so I don't see a better place to begin."

Vex leaned in close, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "Do you think that bastard has informants? Do you think all of this information will somehow get passed on to him?"

"It has before," Indis pointed out, bitterly recalling the slimy Argonian who had betrayed them. "Gulum-Ei was passing along information. Stay vigilant, all of you. That's all I ask, and if something suspicious comes along, pass it along to either me or Brynjolf. It's good to see all of you," she added on, smiling at those seated around the table. It was good to be back.

"Indis, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," Karliah said quietly, placing one hand gently on her forearm. "A few things, actually. For one, someone keeps drawing nipples on the statue of Nocturnal that's in the Cistern. I think it's either Vipir or Thrynn."

Indis groaned. "Of course," she sighed. "It makes sense that it would be one of them. They do enjoy doing things like that. What else did you want to talk to me about?"

"Brynjolf."

* * *

Indis settled down on the ground of the Riften cemetery, leaning against the cool stone grave marker behind her. She and Karliah had elected to move their private conversation outside of the Cistern and away from the prying, nosy eyes and ears of their fellow thieves.

"What's this about Brynjolf?" Indis asked casually, reaching over to pluck some nightshade from the ground next to her. "He's back here in Riften, isn't he? He made it safe, right?" she asked, worry creeping into her voice, hoping that Mercer hadn't gotten to him.

"He's fine," Karliah replied, a small smile ghosting across her lips. After a few seconds, her smile faded, and she looked up at Indis with concern. "He told me what happened with Mercer, and what he did to you. I'm so, so terribly sorry. I had never imagined that he would do such a thing as that. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Karliah. Honestly. It's done and over with."

Indis made to stand, but Karliah reached out, stopping her. "There is the matter of Brynjolf," she said, the tiny smile returning to her face. "Did something happen between you two in Solitude? He's been acting a bit off ever since he's returned."

_Karliah, as astute as ever_, Indis wryly thought to herself, brushing a strand of auburn hair out of her eyes before looking up at her fellow Nightingale. "Has he? Nothing really happened," she replied, her strange tone of voice betraying every attempt to feign ignorance.

"Really now? It doesn't seem like it."

"Fine," Indis groaned, pulling her knees to her chest. Karliah had become a close friend, and she had hid little from her. There was little purpose in beginning now. "He told me that if things didn't work out with Teldryn, then I should consider him. That's it, really," she said with a shrug, beginning to nervously peel apart the nightshade she had plucked earlier.

"Is that so? It's curious that's the way he chose to tell you," Karliah responded, her amethyst eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Tell me what?"

"That he loves you. Isn't that obvious?"

Indis laughed, shaking her head. "No, he doesn't. We're just friends. What makes you think he loves me? That's absolutely ridiculous."

"I don't think, I _know_. He told me during one of his visits to Nightingale Hall. That was quite a while ago, actually. He always did speak so highly of you during his visits. He spoke of you quite frequently, actually. Some of our entire conversations revolved around you."

"You're wrong," Indis replied, giving a snort of indignation.

"Do you honestly think he visited an island full of vampires for insignificant Guild business? No, it was always just to see you. I think he even made up some of the business that he had you sign off on. It was just an excuse. He missed you. You should talk to him. You haven't even been to see him yet, have you?"

Indis opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off as a voice called out her name. They both turned, and Indis let out a sigh of relief when she saw Ralof striding towards them, waving to get her attention. He was the perfect excuse to end their incredibly awkward conversation. "We can talk later Karliah. I'll be seeing you around."

* * *

"You have quite a house," Ralof said, glancing back at Riftweald one last time before leaning against the railing that overlooked the canal below. "Thank you for letting me stay with you, Indis. It was good to get a little bit of a break from the College. Winterhold isn't exactly the liveliest of places, if you know what I mean."

Indis thought back to her few, brief visits to the northern city, recalling the dilapidated houses, the few people wandering around, and the lack of anything to do, besides go to the College. "I can believe it," she finally said, motioning for him to follow her. Once they were well away from the main marketplace, she reached into her pocket, emerging with her skooma pipe. She hadn't been able to smoke as often as she had liked, choosing to keep her newfound habit away from Teldryn. "Give me a light, would you?"

Ralof frowned before reluctantly producing the tiniest of flames at the tip of his fingers, setting her pipe alight. "This is something new," he said, watching as she exhaled, making a point to cough, sputter, and wave the smoke out of his face in the most dramatic way possible. "Skooma?"

"Hush," she halfheartedly scolded, already beginning to feel the calming, relaxing effects, before taking another drag off the pipe. "It helps with the pain in my hand, and I like the way it feels."

Ralof cocked an eyebrow. "What happened to your hand?"

Flexing her stiff, taut fingers, she sighed. "It got broken," she replied glumly, choosing to leave out that it had gotten smashed underneath Mercer Frey's boot. "Oh, and if you mention the skooma to Teldryn, I'll have your hide. I'll probably send Thrynn after you," she said. Thrynn had done quite a bit of dirty work for her in the past, and the barbarian wasn't afraid to put his muscles to use.

"I won't, I won't. Don't worry," he replied, leaning against the moss-covered stone wall nearby.

She exhaled once more, a dense, opaque cloud of smoke billowing out in front of her before it slowly drifted off into the sky. "I'm like a dragon," she laughed, playfully nudging Ralof. "Guess what? I'm Dragonborn."

The blond man snorted, rolling his eyes at her. "Liar. Is this what skooma does? It makes you lie even more than usual? I don't believe you, not one damn bit. It certainly doesn't help that you were always a terrible liar."

"Ralof, why don't you believe me?" she groaned, waving her arm at him. "I am, I _swear_ it, by Dibella's beautiful tits."

He laughed, grabbing the arm she was waving at him. "I'll believe it when I see it, Indis. Why would the Gods make a tiny, thieving, Imperial skooma-addict the Dragonborn?"

"Because they have a shitty sense of humor and they want to watch the world burn."

"Gods, I've missed you," he breathed, pulling her into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around her. "You had no idea how happy I was when I got your letter."

"I've missed you too," she sighed, enfolding her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face deep in his chest. "I'm sorry I was so wretched to you."

He pulled away, moving his hands so they were gently cupping each side of her face. "Pah, I deserved it. I was awful to you, and I paid the price. So it goes," he remarked sadly, letting out a long sigh. "Now, you had previously mentioned you had some more Guild business to take care of? If you'd like, I can take Israna and Casimir back to Riftweald for you."

She smiled. "Thank you, Ralof. I would appreciate that."

* * *

She descended the ladder that led into the Cistern, before slowly meandering towards Brynjolf, who she had been told was in the Ragged Flagon. The skooma had calmed her nerves, and after she had passed Israna and Casimir off to Ralof, she had loitered in the cemetery for a short while, thinking of what she should say to Brynjolf. After a great deal of deliberation, she had decided that the best course of action would be to simply act as though nothing awkward or uncomfortable had happened in Solitude. It would be best to ignore the situation entirely.

Indis stepped into the Flagon, spotting Brynjolf sitting at a table tucked away in a corner, with only a stack of ledgers and books to keep him company.

"Brynjolf," she said nonchalantly as she slid into the chair across from him. "Helping me out with the bookkeeping? I appreciate it."

"No problem, lass," he replied, snapping the ledger he had been working on shut. "I'm glad to see that you made it back to Riften safe and sound," he continued, pausing. His mouth hung open briefly, as though he was contemplating saying something else, but he quickly closed it.

"The travel wasn't too bad," she said, waving her hand at him. "How is business?"

"Not bad," he replied with a shrug, his brow furrowing briefly. "Although, I do need you to talk to Vipir and tell him that he can't use Guild funds on brothels."

Indis had opened her mouth to reply, but before she could respond, a hoarse, familiar voice excitedly interrupted them.

"Did someone say something about brothels? Oh, the tales I could tell you about my visits."

"Sam Guevenne!" she called out with a laugh, rising from her chair to clap him on the shoulder. "Brynjolf, this absolutely awful man is the reason I'm married to Teldryn."

"Pleased to meet you," Brynjolf replied, unable to shake the strange feeling he had. He felt as though he had met this Sam Guevenne before, as though there was something he should tell Indis about Teldryn, and a reason for them to stay away from the Daedra standing in front of them. _Daedra? He's obviously just a man. Why in Oblivion did I think he was a Daedra? _He silently wondered, shaking it off. He obviously needed to get more sleep.

"Whaddya say?" Sam slurred, depositing a healthy sized keg on the table in front of them, a wicked twinkle creeping into his eye. "Share a few drinks with me?"

Indis had already excitedly agreed, but Brynjolf paused, still feeling uncomfortable. After a few seconds of contemplation, he brushed his worries aside. "Aye, we'd love to, lad."

* * *

Indis blinked slowly, her heavy lids struggling to stay open as she adjusted to the warm, golden light of late afternoon that was flooding through the bedroom window. She raised one hand, absentmindedly rubbing at her pounding temples as she recalled the incredibly strange, vivid, and hyper realistic dream she'd had the night before.

_That…that was strange. Brynjolf? I think it's a sign that I need to stay away from Sam's special brew_, she thought to herself as she moved to run her hand along a sleeping, snoring Teldryn's arm. She was happy, and incredibly relieved to see the Dunmer man next to her. Indis was attempting to make herself comfortable in the crook of his arm when she felt something behind her stir. She assumed it was likely Israna or Casimir, wanting them to wake up and play, or perhaps one of those wretched spiders making themselves comfortable.

When she rolled over, the last thing she expected to see was a very sleepy and very naked Brynjolf lying next to her.

* * *

_A/N: Dun dun dun! There's never a dull moment with the Daedric Lord of debauchery around, ehh? Just a quick note: since I've been posting like crazy over the past few days, I'll be taking a break from this story until next Tuesday (I'm awful, I know). An Uncommon Reaction should have a new chapter up tomorrow._

_So, what do you think happened? You'll find out for sure next Tuesday. ;)_


	19. A Night Nobody Wants To Remember

Indis took in her surroundings with yet another gasp, trying to move away as Brynjolf's bare bottom made contact with her thigh. She rubbed her temples, muttering soft curses to herself as she wracked her brain, trying to figure out what exactly had happened. After a few minutes of panicked pondering, the memories of the previous night began to flood back in a rush.

* * *

"_This stuff is bloody fantastic," Indis slurred, taking another swill of mead before lighting up her pipe again. "It makes the effects of the skooma even more…more…" she trailed off, searching for the right word, finally failing. "You know what I mean. More good-er."_

"_Betterish?" Brynjolf asked, letting out a snort as he slung his arms around her shoulders. "Ish nice." _

_Indis shrugged, pushing his arm off as she stood. "Somethin' like that. We should share some with Teldurrn and Ralff," she said excitedly, nudging Sam's arm. "Tha's my husband, you know."_

"_Oh ho, no he isn't," Sam said, rising to join her and Brynjolf. "I made all that up, it's a crock of shit."_

"_Liar," she glared, holding onto Brynjolf for support._

"_I'm not! Don't you trust Uncle Sanguine? The wedding I performed means nothing here in Skyrim, and it isn't recognized by the Temple here, but I did get you to believe it was! Heh, and that list of stupid shit I gave you to do, I can't believe you did it!"_

"_Liar," she repeated, her drink and drug addled mind considering what he had just told her. "I thinks you're lying."_

"_I'm not. Want to go see the real Maramal?"_

_Fine. Lesh go."_

* * *

"_Tel, Tel," she sobbed, burying her face in the Dunmer man's shoulder. "We're not really murried. It was one of Sanguine's lil' pranks. Mermel said so. He said it doesn't count, not really."_

"_S'it's no big deal," he replied, awkwardly patting the top of her head, already completely drunk, thanks to Sanguine's brew. "We'll jush go and do it for reals, then it'll be a'ight. Don' you worry your face about it."_

_Brynjolf stepped forward, clapping a hand on Indis' shoulder, the drink making him far bolder than he usually would've been. "Lash, gimme a chance, since yer not married. Pick me. I'll prove to ya I'm the better man."_

_Ralof slammed his tankard down on the table, the supernaturally strong mead sloshing out all over the wood, letting out a loud belch before he spoke. "Count me in," he paused, reaching up to scratch his beard. "Wait, what're we doin', again?"_

"_Lookit this, lash," Brynjolf said, pulling off his Thieves Guild cuirass, flexing his large, rippling muscles once he had tossed it aside. "All thish, 'n more."_

_Ralof reached down towards the hem of his mage's robes, letting them fall out of his hands after a few seconds. "Feh, never mind," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I can't competes with that," he continued, fondly patting his mead belly. _

"_Well, I cans," Teldryn said, swaying, grabbing at the walls for balance once he had slowly clambered to his feet. "She's my woman, and I'll win 'er, just you watch, you stupid handsome Nord man."_

_A tiny, mischievous smile tugged at the corner of Sam Guevenne's lips. "What's this I hear, a contest to win the fair lady's affections? Well, time's a wastin' if we want to have a weddin' at dawn!"_

* * *

"_Sanguine, I don' unnerstand," Indis mumbled, climbing up onto the giant's shoulders. "'Ow is all of this shit supposed to prove who's the best? A goat, a bucket o' histcarp, a pickaxe, and a bandit? I don' get it," she sighed, resting her head on the top of the giant's, the creature's thundering footsteps gently lulling her to sleep._

_It wasn't supposed to mean anything, it was just more pointless shenanigans, but he wasn't about to tell her that. Sanguine had transformed, no longer pretending to be the tiny little Breton Sam Guevenne. "Just you trust me, sweetheart. Now, come on. Let's go get you a tattoo! I think we're coming up on an Orc stronghold up ahead."_

"_Mmkay," she replied, glancing up to see a figure in his smallclothes running towards them. "Wait, who is that?"_

_Ralof stopped in front of them, gasping and wheezing as he watched Indis fall from the giant's shoulders, landing on her bottom. "Indish!" he cried out, running over to her, depositing a dead goat on the ground. "I gots you your goat. Sorry it's dead, lil' fella kept tryin' to run away from me, so I just wanted to burn 'im, just a lil' bit, just until he stopped, but I went a lil' too far. Roasted goat, heh. I also wrote you a poem. Ya wanna hear?"_

_After she nodded enthusiastically, he clumsily pulled a crumpled slip of paper out of his smallclothes, hacking and clearing his throat before continuing. "Imperial blood is red, deathbell is kinda blue, I miss yer tits, and I'll fuck ya 'til you cry."_

"_Oh, Ralof," she sighed, throwing her arms around his shoulders. She tried to kiss him, but ending up missing and slobbering on his ear instead. "I don't care if you're fat, thash so sweet, and so romantic."_

_The Nord reached up, gesturing to his necklace, which still had the same silver ring he gave her years ago. "Still gots this, too. Savin' it for ya."_

"_Nope," Sanguine interjected, yanking them apart. "Your shitty little poem doesn't count, and neither does the sentimental ring of bullshit. I'm the judge, remember? Now get outta here, Chubs!"_

* * *

_Brynjolf had always prided himself on being an excellent pickpocket, but he quickly discovered that being madly intoxicated was not exactly the best state to be in when trying to engage in the activity. He had attempted to swipe the key to Madesi's stand off of him so that he could steal a wedding ring for Indis, but the manner in which he clumsily jammed his hand into the man's pocket quickly alerted his target._

"_Brynjolf! Thief!" Madesi cried out, whipping around. "Trying to steal from me?"_

"_No, no," Brynjolf insisted, pulling his hand away. "Just wanted to get…a feel of that feckin' magnificent tail, tha's all. Now, if ya don't mind, I'll just give 'er another lil' squeeze," he continued, finally slipping away with the key. After Madesi had walked away, embarrassed and rattled by Brynjolf's very public and obvious groping, he turned to the paunchy Breton man at his side._

"_Go get me a bandit, Delvin. I need one for…I just need one, a'ight? Get one that looks tough. I wanna make it look like I worked for it. Hurry!"_

_After Delvin had flashed him a look of annoyance and confusion before scuttling away, the Nord thief set to work at Madesi's stand, clearing it of all valuables, jamming jewelry and gems into all of his many pockets. If Delvin took care of the bandit for him, all that was left was the bucket of histcarp._

* * *

_The Orc chieftain stared at the tiny little Imperial woman who had invaded the stronghold and her companion, who appeared to be a Daedra of some kind, bristling uncomfortably under her steely gaze. The gates had been closed, and she had been commanded by the night's watch to stay out since she was neither an Orc or blood-kin, but she had somehow clambered up the walls like some creepy little beast straight out of Oblivion, demanding to be let inside. It was a task made even more impressive by the fact that she was obviously quite drunk and high._

"_I need a tattoo. I wanna look jush like Uncle Sanguine," she slurred, prodding the massive Orc in the chest. "Gimme. Now."_

_The Orc cocked an eyebrow and let out a sigh, hoping that if he agreed to the request, she and her Daedra would leave without causing too much trouble. "As you wish."_

"_Just go easy on her, maybe something little to start with," Sanguine said, chortling as he watched the Orc man dip a thick needle into a small bottle of black ink. "I was thinkin' a big ol' dragon, all over her back. Whaddya say, Indis?"_

* * *

_Pickaxes, all the pickaxes in the world could be found in Shor's Stone, a wretched little mining homestead. Teldryn just knew it. After he had ambled into Shor's Stone, he set to work collecting every single pickaxe he could find._

"_Gotta bring 'er the best one," he mumbled, stuffing another pickaxe into the massive, already over encumbered knapsack he was trying to sling over his shoulder. He tried to hoist it, but to no avail. He cursed loudly, and set the sack down with a clatter. "Gotta bring 'er the best pickaxe there is."_

"_Is someone there?" called out an agitated voice, and Teldryn spotted a man stepping out onto his small porch, a small candle flickering in his hand. "Hello?"_

"_You can't stop me!" Teldryn bellowed, dragging the bag behind him, making incredibly slow progress as he tried to flee from Shor's Stone. "These pickaxes are mine, you sonofabitch!"_

_The man stared blankly at him for a few seconds before turning on his heel, and heading back into his house with an exasperated sigh._

* * *

"_Well, well," Sanguine said, looking over Brynjolf, who had two wriggling goats under each arm, a bucket of histcarp by his feet, a terrified bandit bound and gagged nearby, and a pickaxe on one hip. "Looks like Red is our winner."_

"_Tha's not fair," grumbled Teldryn, folding his arms over his chest as he glared at the thief. "He stole my goat!"_

"_Shut it, Mohawk," Sanguine said dismissively, clapping Brynjolf on the shoulder. "At least you didn't come in last, like…oh, what was his name? Where's he gotten to, anyhow? Great, we lost Chubs. Never mind that. We've got to invite all of Riften to a wedding."_

* * *

_Indis stumbled down the aisle toward Maramal, reaching out to grab some of the nearby benches to steady her swerving, trembling legs. Many from Riften had turned out, and if the vast majority of the guests hadn't been spectacularly drunk as well, they no doubt would have been incredibly judgmental of the hot mess of a bride. Teldryn was sitting in the front row, looking incredibly happy and pleased, despite the fact that the woman he loved was minutes away from marrying another man. _

"_Brynjolf?" she asked, looking up at the redheaded Nord in surprise. "Thash grape, I s'pose! I could do worse, probably."_

_Maramal gave a polite cough. "Shall we begin? We're gathered here today, under Mara's loving gaze…"_

* * *

"_Thish is going to be wonderful," Indis said, clumsily trying to tug her stolen wedding gown over her head. She gave up, instead choosing to watch as Teldryn tumbled into their bed, beginning to snore. She turned her attention to Brynjolf, who had managed to strip down naked before he passed out. _

"_Well, shall we get this started?" Sanguine asked, gesturing to them with a grand flourish._

"_I…I think I'm gonna take a lil' nap, just a lil' one," she groaned, flopping down in between the two men, limbs splayed in various uncomfortable positions as she dozed off. "Then…then we can get started…"_

"_Mortals," he grumbled, staring at the unconscious trio before him before stomping out of the bedroom. "They always disappoint you during their most promising moments."_

* * *

"Oh, oh Gods, what have I done," she moaned, burying her face in her hands. She raised her head, reaching over to cautiously inspect Brynjolf's hand, groaning when she noticed the glimmering, jewel-encrusted ring on his index finger. All of a sudden, a sharp, rapping knock at the door jerked her out of her pitiful, horrified stupor. She slowly scooted off the bed, taking care to not wake either of the sleeping men, before heading out of her bedroom, shocked by what she saw before her.

Sanguine was sitting at the dining table with Casimir, his true, Daedric form revealed. Her son didn't seem to mind one bit, though, and was currently occupied finger-painting and eating some sort of strange concoction out of a bowl.

"What are you doing?" she cried out, storming over to them, ready to tear the spoon out of Casimir's hand. "What did you feed him?"

"Calm your tits, woman," Sanguine replied, lifting up Casimir's finished artwork to inspect. "It's sweetrolls, taffy treats, and honey nut treats mixed together with some milk. He said you gave it to him all the time. You didn't lie to your Uncle Sanguine, did you pal?" he asked, playfully narrowing his eyes.

"Heh. No," Casimir responded, taking another large bite of his sugary concoction, pushing a piece of colorful, paint-drenched paper towards Sanguine. "You."

The Daedra held it up. "Me? This is supposed to be me? Not bad, not bad. I'm not purple, though."

"Listen," Indis snapped, interrupting them. "There's someone at the door. You go deal with Teldryn and Brynjolf. I…I just can't right now."

She stormed off before he could reply, flinging the door open once she had arrived, surprised that the late-afternoon caller was still lingering outside. "Maramal," she sighed, hoping she could get him to confirm that it was a dream, not a memory. "What are you doing here?"

"I just came to wish you and your new husband all the best!" he chirped cheerfully, holding out a basket filled with spiced wine, fruit, and a few baked goods. "Congratulations to you and Brynjolf. If either of you should need any counsel regarding your marriage, I'm at the Temple, right next door. It wouldn't hurt you to visit once in a while," he mumbled, adding the not-so-subtle hint.

As soon as Maramal was out of sight, Indis sank to the ground, settling to the stoop. "Gods, what am I going to do?"

* * *

"So, it looks as though I'm not really married to Indis, then," Teldryn sighed dejectedly, running a hand over his incredibly short, scraggly beard. "I hope you're ready to get a divorce so we can make this right."

"Now, listen," Brynjolf began calmly, raising his hands. As far as he was concerned, things already were right. He had been mulling over a possibility ever since Sanguine had calmly informed them of what had happened the previous night. "I don't want to divorce her. This is something I've wanted for a long time, and I don't want to give it up so easily."

Teldryn looked up at him, face seething with fury. "Oh? Does my life with her, our children, mean nothing to you? You're being a selfish idiot."

"Perhaps," Brynjolf replied tersely, gritting his teeth. "But there's a way we can both get what we want."

"Oh? How is that?"

"We share."

Teldryn laughed, shaking his head incredulously. "You think I want to share my wife with you? Fuck off."

"_My_ wife, technically," Brynjolf pointed out, ignoring the Dunmer's glare. "I wouldn't ever ask her to leave you. She loves you, far more than she'll ever love anyone else, and I wouldn't dream of asking her to give that up. I'd just like my chance, too."

Teldryn remained silent, his fingers slowly drumming a lazy rhythm on his knee that was bouncing up and down. It pained him to admit that Brynjolf was right, that now his and Indis' relationship would be viewed illegitimate, since she had legally, technically married the Nord man. He was less than fond of Brynjolf's proposition, but he loved Indis, and would do anything to keep her happy, and if trying out this strange, new kind of relationship did that, he would go along with it. "I suppose it would be nice to have someone else around to help…keep her under control. Don't consider this a yes, just yet. I'm…I'm still not certain."

"That's fine. Just consider it. We can talk about it with the lass and see how she feels about it. Where's she gotten to, by the way?"

* * *

_A/N: I know, I know, I said I wasn't going to post thing until next Tuesday, but today's my wedding anniversary, and since my husband is 1000 miles away finishing his dissertation and unable to celebrate with me, I decided to celebrate by writing for all of you awesome people!_

_Speaking of weddings…_

_Well, now we know what happened during that night with Sanguine! As you just saw, I've decided to go the polyamorous route with this. Something new, something different, something a little more adventurous. I think it fits Indis, the sexually insatiable Dragonborn. We'll see if it works out for them._

_A huge thank you to harronhermy and SkyrimJunkie for helping me sort out all of the messes and ideas in my head, and for MirriMazDuur for encouraging me to go with this direction. Unfortunately, I may not be able to update next week, since it's crunch time for my thesis, but I will try my damnedest to do so._

_If you want something else to read in the meantime, check out __**SkyrimJunkie, Skylar D.C, Mirage159, Moonflower04, Kira Mackey, and MirriMazDuur**__. Or, pretty much anyone on my favorites list. They've all got some fantastic, interesting stuff! _

_Do it, or Sanguine will ruin your life, too. _


	20. Complete Honesty

They found her seated on the back steps of Riftweald Manor, her knuckles white as she clutched a basket full of wine and fruit, her brow deeply creased, and her face blank as she stared off deep in thought. Indis gave them the briefest of glances at the sound of the door opening behind her, clutching the basket tighter as Teldryn and Brynjolf settled down next to her.

"Lass," Brynjolf began, pausing as he reached up to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. He and Teldryn had set out to find Indis, to present her with his idea, but he hadn't actually thought of how he should best go about this. "We've been talking," he offered lamely, waiting for her to respond.

"Oh?" she asked distractedly, eyes focused on a nearby butterfly hovering and flittering about, doing her best to look anywhere but at them. "About what?"

"About your marriage to Brynjolf, and our relationship," Teldryn interjected, getting straight to the point, wanting to get the conversation over with as quickly as possible. "Brynjolf here has suggested that we share you. That we have an…open relationship," he finished, trying to hide his disdain for the idea. He was hoping that she would be as hostile and closed-off to the idea as he was, and he stared at her silently, waiting with bated breath for her response.

She looked up, cocking an intrigued eyebrow. "Wait, what? Share me? You mean that? It's something you'd want to do?"

"Only if you want, m'sera," Teldryn responded, resisting the itch to smack the hopeful look straight off of Brynjolf's dangerously handsome face. "Is this something that you would want?"

Indis hesitated, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she uttered her reply. "Yes."

An earsplitting grin broke out across Brynjolf's face, and Teldryn felt his thudding heart plummet into his stomach. Indis reached out, taking one of his hands in his before speaking again. "Brynjolf, would you mind leaving us alone for a few moments?" she asked, flashing the Nord a brief smile. "I need to speak to Tel."

Teldryn waited until Brynjolf had entered Riftweald once more before letting out an audible, angry grunt. That single word had turned him upside down, and he was struggling to clamber to his feet, furiously, frantically thinking of how to respond to it. He didn't know.

"Listen, there's something I've wanted to talk to you about for a while now," she said gently, lacing her fingers through his, pulling him back down so that he was seated. "Please, just listen. Hear me out until the end. Please?" Once he had given her a stiff, curt nod, she continued.

"I love you Teldryn. I do, so, so much. I just don't think that I can continue in the same vein. That's all."

His head jerked up and he scowled at her. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Gods. How can I say this…" she trailed off, letting out a long exhale as she fidgeted with the hem of her flowing, too-large wedding dress. "I don't think I'm cut out for monogamy. Now, wait," she said, pressing a pair of slim fingers to his lips when he attempted to interrupt. "Hear me out. I love you more than anyone else on Nirn, and I mean that. However, I believe that there are different kinds of love, and it is completely possible, and is not wrong in any way to love more than one person. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I'm a physically expressive person, and I like expressing my love and affection for those I really, truly care about through sex."

Teldryn stared at her dumbfounded, the dull ache in his stomach growing, before speaking. "You mean this? You want to fuck people besides me?"

She sighed. "Yes, I do."

"I don't fucking believe this," he growled, making to stand. However, as soon as he tried to rise, a furious Indis yanked him back down.

"I said I wanted to you to listen to me, to just hear me out," she snapped, relinquishing her grip on his wrist. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be angry with you. I can understand why you're upset, but please. Believe me when I say that I love you so, so much and you don't leave me unfulfilled in any way at all. Being with other people doesn't mean that I don't care about you, and it doesn't mean that my love for you is any less valid. Caring for other people doesn't mean that my feelings for you are diminished in the slightest. Often, it reminds me of just how much I _do_ love about you."

The Dunmer groaned, running a hand down over his face. "I thought we were doing so well, with it just being you and me while we were at Volkihar. It was just us, Indis."

She gave an uncomfortable laugh and bit her lip. "Actually, that's not true," she admitted sheepishly. "There was someone else who I, err, was intimately involved with."

"By Azura, who was it? Isran? Celann? Balimund?"

"No, none of them," she sighed, drawing her knees up to her chest. "Serana."

Teldryn raised an eyebrow, thinking back to all of the time that Indis spent with her vampire companion. "I thought you two were just friends."

"She's one of my best friends. We just end up sleeping together at times. Sometimes it would be after she and Isran had a fight, and I'd end up, um, comforting her. Sometimes it would just happen. I care about her, and she cares about me. It was just one way we showed each other how we felt. It's been that way for years."

He hesitated, fingers drumming thoughtfully on his chin. He had to admit, the idea of Indis and Serana becoming physically intimate was a great deal more appealing than the idea of Indis with Brynjolf, or Ralof, or Balgruuf, or any other man. "Does this mean you want to just go out and fuck all of Skyrim?"

She laughed. "No. I don't."

"Whenever you slept with Ralof or the Jarl after we were married, why did you come back saying you were sorry and that you regretted it?"

Indis leaned back, lazily swatted at a leaf slowly fluttering to the ground. "I suppose I did that because I felt like I should, given that I've had the 'one man, only one man until you die' shoved down my throat ever since I was a little girl," she paused, letting out a sigh. "It didn't _feel_ wrong when I was with Balgruuf, Ralof, or Serana, but the message I got was that it _should_ have. I tried, Tel. I really did. It took me a long time to just admit to myself that perhaps it wasn't the right lifestyle for me. Nothing wrong with those who do want that one person," she added hastily. "I'm sorry to unload all of this on you, Tel. How are you feeling?"

He shook his head, exhaling through clenched teeth. "It's a lot to wrap my head around. I'm not sure what to think of all of this."

"I know. I'm sorry. I…I understand if you don't want to continue with me, though. I really do."

"I don't want this to end. I love you, and we have children," he replied, extending his hand to her. "This will just take a lot of getting used to and there will be a lot of adjustments to make. It'll be challenging, to say the least. You will tell me about it whenever you're with someone else, won't you? I want to know."

"Of course I will, Tel. If you want me to, I will. Who knows, maybe you could even join in," she said with a cheeky smile, nudging him playfully as he helped her stand. "You know, I don't mind if you get involved with anyone else."

He shook his head. "That may be your way, but it's not mine," he said, briefly considering the possibility of another woman before quickly brushing it aside. Indis alone had left his hands more than full, and another demanding, insatiable, half-crazy woman might just push him to the brink. "Come on, let's get inside and talk to Brynjolf," he stopped suddenly, his hand resting on the doorknob to the manor. "What are we going to do about Brynjolf? How in Oblivion is this arrangement going to work?"

"It'll be fine. I'll spend some nights with Brynjolf, but I want to spend the majority of my time with you. I'm going to continued living here in Riftweald with you. He may legally, technically be my husband, but you're still my main man. You always will be, so don't forget that," she said, giving him a coy smile as she rose to the tips of her toes so that she could kiss him. "Anyway, I'm honestly more worried about how Aventus will react to all of this."

"What about Izzy and Cas?"

"They're too young to understand right now. I'm sure over time they'll just gradually become accustomed to having Brynjolf around more. They already like him. I'm worried more about how Aventus will handle it, since he was, hmm, quite hostile the last time we added anyone to the family. We'll sort it out, though. So, what do you say to you, me, and Serana next time we see her?"

Teldryn snorted, rolling his eyes. "One woman has been more than enough, thank you very much. Luckily, now you have a _husband_ that you can force to join in. Get Brynjolf to do it. I'm sure he's had plenty of lasses, probably lads as well, in what was probably a big, awkward, messy fuck-jumble."

He held out the door for her, waiting to follow her inside, running into her back when she stopped suddenly. She turned towards him, looking concerned. "Where's Ralof? Have you seen him around?"

Teldryn shrugged. "No idea."

"Great, we've lost him," she said, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I'd better get changed and go find him and make sure he didn't end up face down in Lake Honrich."

"When you find him, will you and Ralof…" he trailed off, still incredibly unnerved by the idea of her becoming intimate with someone else. He shook it off. "You know. Fuck. You'd better watch it if you do," he joked, giving her a small smile. "He's gotten pretty fat. He might crush you, since you're such a tiny thing. Let him be on the bottom."

She rolled her eyes, letting out a snort and a chuckle. "Hmmph. You know I prefer to be on top any way. Oh, he's not _that_ fat, and no. He certainly has gotten chubbier, though. But no, I'm not going to. I haven't since Mercer; well…you know what he did. Whenever I get back tonight, it's going to be with you," she breathed, pulling him down for a kiss. "How did I get lucky enough to get someone like you?"

"Just think, you could have been with a hagraven instead of me," he mumbled with a small laugh, breaking away from the kiss. "We can thank that jackass Sanguine, I suppose."

"Oh Gods, Sanguine. I forgot all about him," Indis groaned, tugging on the ends of her hair. "Will you go find him and make sure he's not feeding Cas any more sugary piles of shit?"

"Wait, what?"

"Never mind. I'm going to go find Ralof. I'll be back soon, and we can talk about this more then."

* * *

_A/N: Yes, it's just a filler chapter full of feeeelings! So, looks like Indis is going to be getting some outside action, and she got Teldryn's blessing. Since this is rated M, there may be a bit of smut here and there. Who do you want to see a scene with? Indis/Teldryn? Indis/Ralof? Indis/Balgruuf? Indis/Serana? Indis/Brynjolf? Indis/Brynjolf/Serana? It's not limited to those pairings, either. Get creative, get wild! But not too wild, sheesh. Let me know! I'm taking requests. :)_


	21. A Man After Midnight

_A/N: First off, I would like to apologize in advance—I had a bottle of wine to myself and was listening to ABBA's greatest hits when I wrote this chapter, so if you see any errors, forgive me. I did my best to edit, but it's possible I may have missed something. Nothing wrong with writing drunk, anyway! Wasn't it Hemingway who said to "write drunk, edit sober"? _

_Besides, Timey doesn't get drunk…she just has fun._

_Anyway, on to the action! There may have been a couple of ABBA song lyrics that snuck their way in here, so if you find all of them, you win the right to be a smug bastard. Enjoy!_

**[Musical Inspiration: ABBA. Nothing but sweet, sweet ABBA.]**

* * *

"Hey. Wake up," Indis said, nudging the naked, sunburned Nord with her boot. After asking around the guards of Riften, she had been able to put together that he had headed out of the city, towards the direction of Faldar's tooth. About an hour out of the city, she found him completely naked and snoozing next to a bush, his mage's robes carelessly tossed aside. He didn't stir, so she gave him another push, one that was much, much harder. He finally groaned and rolled over, staring up at her with bleary, bloodshot eyes. "Come on, Ralof. We should get back to Riften before nightfall."

Ralof sat up, trying to cover himself. "Indis? Is that you?" he asked, his dry throat emitting a hoarse croak. He caught the robes she tossed to him, gingerly pulling them over his head, wincing when they rubbed against his tender flesh. "What happened last night? I can't remember a damn thing."

She sighed, motioning for him to follow her to the cool shade of a tree on Lake Honrich's edge. Kicking off her boots, she sat down, dipping her bare feet in the water. "Sit down. It's a long story."

"So, what happened? How in Oblivion did I end up here?" he asked, settling down next to her.

"You've heard of the Daedric Prince Sanguine, correct?"

"Of course. Wait, what? How did he get involved?"

Indis kicked her feet aimlessly, splashing water all over Ralof's robes. "We all got incredibly drunk thanks to this, oh gods, some kind of drink. Anyway, I don't even know what it is. It's some kind of supernaturally strong brew. In short, I found out that my marriage to Teldryn was a sham, some bullshit cooked up for him, and it wasn't legally recognized. After learning that, all of you participated in a contest he was in charge of to see who I would marry in the Temple."

"Did I win?" Ralof asked, feeling the slightest bit hopeful.

She laughed, letting out a snort. "Really? Did you just seriously ask that? You woke up naked and sunburned in a bush, what do you think?"

Ralof slumped forward dejectedly. "I'm going to go ahead and take that as a no. I suppose it was Teldryn, then."

"No, actually," she sighed, running one hand through her auburn locks. "It was Brynjolf. You missed the wedding. Not like any of us would actually remember it," she remarked bitterly, just wishing that Sanguine would stay out of her life.

The blond Nord sighed. From his limited interactions with the man, he had been able to ascertain that Brynjolf was absurdly handsome, roguishly charming, and incredibly kind. "Well, congratulations. He seems like a decent enough fellow. Wait, how are you going to handle all of this with Teldryn? Where does he fit in now?"

She stared downwards, focusing all of her attention on a small chunk of bark floating in the water. "We, umm," she began, giving a nervous cough. "We're going to, umm, share."

He cocked an eyebrow before bursting into laughter, clapping her on the shoulder. "Oh, that's good! Mind if I jump in there? Want a third man? I'm willing; just lay all your love on me. And them, too, I suppose."

"I don't understand what's so funny to you," she huffed, glaring at him. "I'm not kidding. It's what we've all agreed on. Oh, and no. I don't want a third husband. I don't even want the second one."

Ralof's laughing stopped, and he stared at her, his brow furrowing. "Really? You're going to be with more than one man? What's wrong with me? Do I smell?" he asked as he raised his arm and pretended to sniff underneath it.

"Yes, actually," she replied, wrinkling her nose as she leaned in towards him. "Quite awful, actually. You might want to have a bath once we get back to Riftweald. Oh, and two men is going to be more than enough."

"So it goes," he sighed, staring off into the distance. "Well, if you change your mind, I'm the first in line. Just remember that I'm still free, all right? I'd just like it if you'd take a chance on me."

She snorted. "I have taken a chance on you, remember? That's in the past, Ralof. We're just friends now," she said, her words leading them into a tense, uncomfortable silence. After a few minutes, she coughed. "So, why were you so eager to leave the College? Last letter I got from Gerdur made it sound like you were happy there."

"Oh, you can take your time, I'm in no hurry," he joked, his smile quickly fading as his brow creased. _She had kept in touch with Gerdur, but not me?_ Ralof quickly brushed it aside. "I was, until this Thalmor man arrived," he responded, a shudder racing down his spine. "I couldn't take it anymore, Indis. I was afraid he was going to figure out who I was, that I had been a Stormcloak, and I had once been one of their prisoners. There were nights that I couldn't sleep, because I was afraid I'd wake up in a prison cell again. You have no idea how much of a relief it was to get that letter of yours," he admitted, relieved to finally tell her. "I had been looking for an excuse to get away."

"Oh, Ralof," she sighed, gently resting her hand on his shoulder, not wanting to aggravate his sunburn. "I'm so, so sorry. You're welcome to stay at Riftweald as long as you feel you need to. I'm sure Brynjolf or I could give you some work to do for the Guild if you needed money. Or, you could help Erandur watch Izzy and Cas. They're wearing that man down. He's too polite to say anything, but I know they're exhausting for him to watch alone."

"Why can't you watch them? Guild business?"

"Yes, and I have to go to High Hrothgar as well."

"What're you going there for?"

"I was summoned by the Greybeards, Ralof. I told you yesterday that I'm Dragonborn, remember?"

He snorted. "On with that again? You're getting much better at lying. Come on, we should go. I'm ready for a bath and I need some kind of salve for my burns. You want to help me apply it?" he asked, giving her a lusty wink.

Indis rolled her eyes. "You're asking me if I want to rub some kind of disgusting salve all over your sunburned ass? As enticing as that sounds, I think I'll pass."

She never heard his response, because after she had replied to him, a loud roar echoed across the sky. It was a sound that she had become all too familiar with and as soon as she heard it, she acted purely out of reflex. She snatched Auriel's bow off her back and whipped an arrow out of her quiver as she ducked under the cover of a nearby tree, her eyes focused on the skies above.

"Indis, what are you doing?" Ralof asked, watching her with a puzzled expression on her face. "Come on, I thought you said we needed to get going."

"Get down," she hissed, jerking her head towards the tree. "If we're lucky, it might not see us and just fly off."

Ralof opened his mouth to respond, to ask her what in Oblivion she was talking about, but any sounds that came out of his mouth were quickly drowned out by the roar that was much, much closer. He looked up, mouth falling open in shock when he saw a massive silver-grey dragon with massive black spikes protruding off its back. It was hovering in the air above them, its beating wings sending down gusts of wind towards him. He was frozen, the images of the carnage of Helgen racing through his mind, his heart beating furiously as his limbs refused to move.

"A little help would be nice!" Indis yelled as she raced in front of him, pausing to aim before releasing the arrow. The beast gave an infuriated snarl as the arrow collided with its neck. It opened its mouth, appearing as though it would roar again, but Indis had quickly picked up on the subtle cues of a dragon's attack and she knew what was soon headed their way. She lunged, pushing Ralof out of the way, landing on top of him. Looking backwards, they both saw the long, sharp trail of ice spikes that covered the ground where they had just been. Indis stumbled to her feet, readying her bow once more as she stepped out into the clearing, shooting one last glance backwards to see if Ralof was coming to join her. He wasn't.

The dragon was circling overhead, occasionally roaring, occasionally releasing more icy gouts of frost. It paused for a few seconds near their position, hovering in the air as it gazed towards Riften as though it was considering the possibility of attacking the city.

"Hey!" Indis called out as she released another arrow, squinting to see if it had made contact. She couldn't tell. She scrambled for another arrow as quickly as she could, jerking back the string of her bow, loosing yet another. "Are you scared, you big ugly son of a bitch? You must be, if you're thinking of running away! I'm over here!"

The combination of her screeching and her arrows caught the dragon's attention and it circled back, its beady eyes scanning the ground, searching for her. Indis had ducked behind a tree to catch her breath and ready another arrow and she was watching the dragon's shadow on the water, able to see that it was flying in a circle, trying to see where she was. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out, firing her bow once more, surprised to see that her arrow pierced the dragon's neck. Obviously weakened, it crashed into the shallower waters of Lake Honrich, half-swimming and half-walking as it thrashed and dragged itself towards her. Indis attempted to take a step back, but realized her feet had become stuck deep in the mud. The creature was clumsily closing the distance between them, and she quickly fired arrow after arrow, silently praying that they did a decent amount of damage to the dragon. Mere yards away from her, the dragon gave a final pained groan as an arrow pierced its skull. It collapsed with a shuddering sigh, lying still as the lake's waters gently lapped at its body.

Indis yanked her feet out of the mud, hating the sickening squelch that the mud made, slogging her way towards the dragon. She waited patiently, watching as the glimmering scales disintegrated and ascended towards the sky, golden flame turning everything but the skeleton to ash, wrapping her with heady, intense warmth as the dragon's soul fused with her own. She clenched her bow tightly during the overwhelming process, finally exhaling as she felt the strange energy stirring underneath her skin. Indis opened her eyes, taking in the sight of the skeleton resting in the water before turning towards the shocked Nord crouching behind a boulder.

"I _told_ you I was Dragonborn," she grumbled as she passed by him, snatching up her boots off the ground as she began the trek towards Riften. "Now do you believe me?"

* * *

Indis had absorbed quite the share of dragon souls over the course of the years, and she had quickly discovered that every time the soul joined with hers, she always took on little bits and pieces of the dragon's personality and that their life, their experiences, quickly became hers. After slaying Mirmulnir, she craved nothing but elk, his favorite creature to feed on, for weeks. Once she had absorbed Volvokunal's soul, thunderstorms set her on edge, and loud cracks of lightning and intense rumbles of thunder would send her scrambling under the covers. The feelings, the sensations always eventually wore off, sometimes after days, sometimes after weeks.

This soul had left her with the strangest, most uncomfortable, most embarrassing sensation she had experienced yet. It was a female dragon that she had killed, and shortly after entering Riften, she had discovered that the dragon had been in heat and was searching for a mate when she had been slain. Ziivukeinah. Her name had been Ziivukeinah.

Indis was currently leaning against the wall in Elgrim's Elixers, eyes flicking between Elgrim and his wife, Hafjorg, finding herself consumed by the most awkward, raging lust that she could imagine. _I'd bet I could fuck both of them and it still wouldn't be enough_, she silently mused, gnawing at her lip, hoping that no one around noticed her quickened breathing. Hafjorg looked up from the counter where she was scooping a thick salve into a jar, giving her a tiny, kind smile. _Oh, gods! She knows I want to fuck them! She knows I want to fuck everyone!_

"Ready to go?" Ralof asked, nudging her for her attention. She nodded, following him out, trudging up the stairs towards the upper level of the city. "How are you doing? You don't look so well."

"I'm fine," Indis replied, giving him a tense smile, resisting the urge to tear Bolli's clothes off when the man accidentally bumped into her. All of a sudden, the people that she had found irritating and loathsome had become attractive, desirable mates, and with every nod, glance, or smile she received, she worried that her lusty little secret had been figured out. "Just a little tired, that's all," she lied. "Ready for bed." _Ready for a couple of good fucks is more like it._

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you before. You know, about being Dragonborn," he whispered as he opened the door to Riftweald for her, his voice still sounding slightly awestruck. "I'm sorry I didn't help fight it. Just kind of froze. Memories of Helgen came back, you know? I'm glad nothing happened to you, though. I never would have forgiven myself."

"It's fine."

"So, what's it like? Absorbing a soul?"

Indis shut the door behind her, leaning against the cool wood. It wasn't a question that she had been asked before. "Sometimes I feel bad," she admitted, thinking back to all of the beasts that had been felled by her bow or sword. "I absorb their memories. I see flashes of their life. Sometimes, I dream their dreams, and I wish I could stop, and that I wasn't Dragonborn. But sometimes," she continued, her breath hitching in her throat. "I feel as though I could absorb every soul in Tamriel, and I would never be sated."

"Ah," Ralof said, reaching up to scratch his neck, uncertain of what to say. He began to tug his filthy robes up and off over his head, tossing them over his shoulder. "I think I'm going to get cleaned up."

She coughed uncomfortably, her eyes running over his form. He had gained a great deal of weight since he had left the life of a soldier behind, but she could still see that he had plenty of muscle left. _My, my. How can I resist you?_ she lamented to herself, feeling her heart begin to race. _Gods, here I go again._ "I'm going to go find Teldryn," she said curtly, suddenly sweeping past him. She trusted Ralof could figure out how to draw a bath himself. She popped into every room in the house, pausing when she saw Erandur sitting at a small table, reading a book. Indis sighed as she felt another wave of desire rush over her. _Not him too!_

"Erandur, have you seen Teldryn?"

"He went hunting with Aventus, remember? He said that they should be back sometime tomorrow."

Indis groaned. She had to get away.

* * *

Indis tossed her armor to the side, deftly slipping out of her smallclothes before wading into the waters of Lake Honrich. After the tiniest bit of contemplation, she had decided to head back out of Riften, hoping that a cold dip in the lake would soothe her frazzled nerves, and would hopefully alleviate some of the yearning she was feeling.

Despite hours of lounging about in the frigid water, she had discovered it hadn't helped at all.

She brought her knees up to her chest, staring off over the water, hoping that the sensation wore off soon. Night had fallen hours ago, and she had sat in the water until her limbs were numb and her fingers had shriveled up so that they looked like little hagraven faces.

Standing up, she stretched, trudging through the water towards the boulder her clothes were resting on. Halfway there, she stopped, an all too familiar sound piercing the silence. She tilted her eyes upwards towards the sky, seeking the source of the sound, unable to detect anything, trusting that she had just been hearing things.

All of a sudden there was a crash behind her and the ground quaked beneath her feet. Despite all attempts to stay upright, she tumbled forward, landing on her hands and knees. With great trepidation, she turned, looking to see what was behind her.

It was a massive red dragon, watching her with what could only be described as an odd mixture of curiosity, confusion, and eagerness. The creature tilted its head to the side, smoke lazily trailing out of its nostrils as it watched her silently. Indis' heart thudded a violent, erratic rhythm against her ribcage as her mind frantically tried to work out why the dragon resting on the ground in front of her wasn't attacking. Her eyes widened once she had figured it out.

_Holy fuck, he could probably smell me or something, he probably thought I was a female dragon ready to…to…,_ she mentally trailed off, not wanting to think about it. She started to back up, trying to scramble away like a cowardly little mudcrab.

The creature lifted its head, letting out a strange, growling, guttural gurgle, and Indis realized it was laughing at her, something she found understandable given how pathetic and ridiculous she must look scrambling around in the mud naked. When the dragon opened its mighty jaws, she clenched her eyes shut, ready to be roasted alive in a burst of flames. She was surprised when it spoke to her.

"_Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin. Zu'u Odahviing."_

* * *

_A/N: I decided to bring Odahviing in a lot earlier, since he's totally the boss' tits. I decided I wanted his relationship with Indis to begin sooner and differently. That dragon is awesome._

_Also, I know there aren't any female dragons in the game, and that always seemed so weird to me. From my research, the whole gender and mating thing for dragons is all over the place and there's really not a lot of information to go on (just one book!), so I've decided that it'd be more interesting if dragons could mate, have personalities, have relationships, have courtship, and have genders since they seem so human-like already. I don't even want to tell you how much I've been thinking about whether or not dragons have penises (the answer is way, way too much). So, the lore may be stretched a little bit here._

_Plus, it'd be really, really boring to live forever and never fuck anything. I'm just gonna leave it that in my world, dragons have gender, they mate for life, and if you want to know more, message me and we can talk. I don't want to think about their genitals anymore. _

_And no, before any of you ask, NO. There isn't going to be any crazy Indis/Odahviiing sex next chapter. However, you can expect some action with a certain sexy Dunmer. Think he's ready to deal with a super duper aroused Indis? ;) _

_Also, everyone needs to head over to Moonflower04's profile ASAP and check out our new collaborative work __**Rising Like Dust**__. Just do it. _


	22. The Dovah and the Joor

To say that Odahviing was disappointed was a serious understatement.

After he had caught the delicious, heady scent of a female ready to mate on the evening breeze, he had quickly abandoned the herd of elk he had been tracking to seek her out. When he had arrived in front of a pathetic, trembling _joor_ he had been absolutely certain that there was a mistake. One more deep inhale confirmed that the tiny mortal in front of him was indeed what he had been seeking, but he had caught something else, something intriguing mixed in with her scent.

It was the raw, brash power of a _dovah_. She was Dragonborn.

She was still watching him, eyes as wide as a deer's during its final moments, as she quaked and trembled before him. He spoke again, repeating himself. _"Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin. Zu'u Odahviing."_ After a silence that seemed to stretch for an age, the little human spoke.

"I-I don't know what you're saying," Indis finally said, snatching her armor off the nearby boulder. She had tried her best to sound bold and unafraid, but the unmistakable waver in her voice betrayed her. "I don't understand the dragon language," she continued, quickly becoming embarrassed as well as terrified and confused. _Dovahkiin…Dovahkiin. That means Dragonborn, I think,_ she thought frantically to herself, hoping she could quickly decipher what the dragon had said. _Am I going to be eaten? Are all of my limbs going to be ripped off and dropped over Riften? What does it want?!_

Odahviing moved his head closer to her, so that he was mere feet away, blowing a massive plume of smoke out of his nostrils. Indis coughed and sputtered as the thick, acrid smoke entered her lungs, and she waved one hand frantically in front of her face trying to clear the air. He laughed, a low, thunder-like rumble. _"Ah, krosis. My apologies. Greetings, Dragonborn. I am Odahviing."_

Indis finished tugging on her cuirass, her trembling fingers pausing as she looked up at him in surprise. "Odahviing," she said, the creature's name rolling languidly off the tip of her tongue. "Odahviing. I-I'm Indis," she continued, slinging her bow over her back. Her fingers remained clasped around it, just in case she needed to put it to use.

He paused while he concocted a response, considering the words of the common tongue, irritated that he had to debase himself by speaking the language of _joorre_ so that she could understand him. Odahviing was still distracted by her scent, and after tilting his head and watching her pace about, it was obvious that she had been unable to put aside her primal urges as well. Before they could continue any further, tensions needed to be alleviated. She stopped pacing, staring at him as he considered what he should do.

"_Slen Fel Aaz,"_ he breathed, watching as her knees buckled, she fell to the ground quaking, her breath quickening before she crumpled to the earth, fully unconscious.

* * *

Indis sat up, rubbing her face as she took in her surroundings. She was no longer on the shores of Lake Honrich, and a quick glance behind her revealed that she was on the summit of a mountain.

"Shit," she mumbled, pulling herself to her feet by using the skeletonized ribcage of a mammoth nearby. Plucking the strands of dried grass out of her hair, she tried to recall how she had gotten there. Her last memory was of Odahviing, using what had seemed to be some kind of Shout on her before she passed out. She wasn't sure what it had done, but she found that she was feeling better, much closer to normal, and that the strange urges that had been a side effect of her last dragon soul were completely gone.

_Odahviing!_ She thought to herself, scanning the area. _Where has that fucker gone off to? I bet he's how I got here_, she silently grumbled, leaning down to pick up Auriel's bow, which had been carelessly flung aside. With bow firmly clenched in her hand, she stepped around a crumbling stone pillar, reaching back towards her quiver to yank out an arrow in case of a nearby threat.

The dragon she was searching for was nestled on top of a massive stone wall, one with carvings incredibly similar to those that she encountered all those years ago in Bleak Falls Barrow. He appeared to be sleeping, or resting. Whatever he was doing, he didn't appear to be interested in her. She continued forward, squinting at the pulsating blue glow surrounding a few of the carved letters, breaking into an excited jog. All of a sudden Indis was thrown backwards by an invisible ball of force that slammed into her, and she went flying backwards, landing hard on her back before she slid several yards.

After lying still for several seconds due to the fact that she wasn't certain if she could actually move her throbbing limbs again, she gingerly pushed up on her hands so that she was in a seated position, wincing at the sharp jolt of pain that raced through her hands and up into her arms. Raising one palm, she squinted at her dirt and blood encrusted hand in the dim light of dawn. Slowly staggering to her feet, she faced Odahviing, who had landed on the ground in front of her with a thundering crash, the force of which nearly sent her toppling to the dirt once more.

"_Grah, Dovahkiin. Battle is the only vahzah way, the only true way to determine if you are bahlaan of midrot. Will you prove if you are worthy of loyalty?"_ he asked, watching her carefully. He didn't expect her to defeat him, or even come close, but he knew that if he were to slay the _Dovahkiin_ in battle, to eliminate this threat to Alduin, he would be magnificently rewarded. So, after careful consideration of the risk, he had chosen to issue the challenge, hoping to draw her into an ill-fated battle.

"Loyalty?" she asked, surprised by the proposition. Durnehviir had been the only one to offer his services, and he hadn't done so beforehand. She wiped her stinging, bloodied hands on her trousers as she considered the possibility of another dragon ally. _You could use all the help you can get, Indis._ "Fine. You have yourself a deal," she called out, quickly reaching for an arrow as she backed away.

Odahviing took off into flight, his powerful wings blowing gusts of air down towards her, sending clouds of fine dust and dirt into her eyes and nose. Coughing, choking she turned away, tears quickly washing her eyes clean as she scanned for a place to safely fire from. Ducking behind a stone pillar, she readied her bow as she peeked out, spying the dragon in flight, a gout of fire bursting forth from his open mouth. He had paused midair, searching for her, and she took the opportunity to release an arrow, muttering a quiet cheer when it made contact with his haunch. He had landed on top of the wall once more, waiting for her to come out.

After a quick, furtive glance to ensure that he hadn't yet located her hiding spot nestled amongst the tall grasses, Indis tore her knapsack off her back, fumbling around as fast as she could manage. Indis emerged with a scroll tightly clenched in one hand. Unrolling it, her eyes skimmed over the thin, arching lines of text, magicka welling up in her palm, quietly mumbling out loud as she read. She readied herself, sending up a short prayer to the Divines that it worked. As soon as she cast it, the incredibly loud sound of a storm atronach being conjured would undoubtedly alert him to her presence. Ignoring the grasses that were now ablaze mere feet away from her, she concentrated, holding her breath as the magicka burst forth from her palm, frantically hoping that it was a success.

It was.

Unfortunately, Indis had no time to celebrate her successful conjuration, because as soon as the atronach was successfully summoned, the noise alerted Odahviing, who had turned his attention towards the area, his eyes locking on her form. She held her ground as he flew above her, the blood still slowly oozing out of her hand making a firm grip on her bow difficult. Indis pulled back the bowstring until she heard it creak, releasing her arrow once more. He stopped, hovering above her, and while he took the precious time to open his mighty jaws and prepare for another attack, she took the opportunity to fire a few more arrows. The shots weren't as powerful as previous ones, but her aim was still true. Her storm atronach hadn't fully captured Odahviing's attention, and it was able to attack in quick bursts, with its smoldering, crackling lightning slamming into Odahviing's scaly flesh as it took part in the fray.

Quickly executing a clumsy duck and roll, she narrowly managed to avoid more flames. She continued running, heading towards one of the several dilapidated shacks that dotted the summit's landscape. Turning, she moved backwards as she mustered up a Shout of her own.

"_FUS!" _she bellowed, the force of the Shout tearing through her throat, leaving behind a burning rawness. It wasn't much, but it slammed into Odahviing, and was just enough to stagger him, throwing off his flight pattern. He struggled to recover, but it was to no avail, and the dragon came clumsily crashing down towards the ground. Scrambling forward, Indis gawked at him, still not used to how ungraceful and awkward dragons looked on the ground, watching as he clawed and scraped his way towards the atronach, snapping at the being cloaked in sparks. Indis took the opportunity to find cover within the shack, firing more shots from the flimsy and imagined safety of her refuge. She watched as the atronach went down, letting forth one final burst of sparks before it returned to Oblivion. Placing the bow on her back, she headed towards the back, wriggling through the tiny window at the rear.

A much weaker Odahviing thundered his way towards the shack, pleased by the apparent wall that she had backed herself into. He was ready to snap at her, tear her apart, as he ducked his head in through the narrow doorway. _"Fos?" _he breathed out loud, puzzled by the empty domicile.

Indis had been ready. As soon as he had moved his head down, she pulled herself up onto the top of the shack, quietly creeping across the wooden planking, moving as stealthily and quickly as she could. Drawing the glass dagger at her hip, she jumped, aiming for his exposed neck. Slashing away as hard and deep as she could, she didn't even flinch as a large crimson spray hit her face. There was a pained roar, and he jerked his head out of the building, destroying the shack, sending rotting wood flying all over the place. She jogged a small distance away from him, finally stopping after a short ways.

She folded her arms over her chest, watching as he dragged himself towards her, his claws gouging deep ruts in the soft ground below him, churning up heaps of dark soil. "I win," she finally said, her breathing labored as she mustered up the most obnoxiously smug smirk that she could manage. "I bested you, hah!"

"_Viik," _he remarked bitterly and reluctantly, resting his head on a nearby boulder. _"Defeat at the haalle of a mortal."_

"Not just any mortal," she pointed out, wiping the blood and grime from her brow. "I'm the Dragonborn, mind you, and now you have to serve me," she continued gleefully, limping forward so that she was right in front of him, patting him on the snout, much to his great dismay. "You said you would. Will you?"

He groaned, a deep rumbling sound emitted from deep in his chest. _"Geh. I will."_

* * *

"Why aren't my Shouts as powerful as yours?" Indis asked, the rock that she had been tossing up and down missing her palm, hitting Odahviing's back with a soft clatter. He didn't seem to notice. After she had defeated him, she had clambered up on his back and sat perched on top of him while he recovered, something he found to be incredibly irritating. He was still sore and humiliated over his loss.

"_Rotmulaagge, or Words of Power, come in sedde. Threes,"_ he replied, taking care to translate for her, knowing that she had little knowledge of the language of _dov__._ He had wanted to rest, but she had been continually shifting around on top of him and he had to deal with her barrage of endless questions and talk. If he had known that the _Dovahkiin_ was going to be so obnoxiously talkative and demanding, he would have just snapped her up and eaten her by the lake. _"With all three Rotmulaagge, your Thu'um will become more suleykaar, more powerful. You also need more hjatir, more practice."_

"I only know _fus_," she grumbled, tugging at the dried blood in her hair, gently trying to comb through the knotted clump. "What does that mean?"

"_Force."_

"Force," she repeated, ignoring his annoyed puff of smoke as she climbed down his side. "Is that one of those walls where I can get a new word?" she asked, gesturing to the gigantic stone structure at the far end of the summit. "There was one in Bleak Falls Barrow. I just learned the word on it. I didn't really know what it meant, though. I'm going to go see," she finished, dashing off before she could receive a reply.

He watched as she jogged away towards the wall, taking off in flight, soaring the short distance towards the top of the word wall. He landed, waiting for her to arrive.

Indis approached, eyes focused on the dim blue glow, gasping as her vision became blurred, so that all she saw was the glow etched in front of her. She clenched her eyes tightly shut as she waited, the power of the word whirling and rushing around her before they joined with her very being, the letters remaining burned into her memory long after the sharp whistling and the low chanting had faded away.

"_Laas,_" she murmured as she opened her eyes, reaching out to trace the carving on the wall. "What does it mean?"

"_Life, Dovahkiin. You will be able to see the laas, or life forces, of your hokoronne and all those around you."_

She frowned, her finger stopping deep within a groove on the cool stone. "I thought you said that Shouts came in threes? Where are the other words? Shouldn't they be here as well?"

"_Niid. They are on other walls such as these throughout Keizaal, they will be found through Skyrim, guarded by dov and others. You will find the other words elsewhere, Dovahkiin."_

Indis scowled, turning so that she could lean against the wall, beginning to slide down into a seated position. "How will I know which words go together? Can I put _fus_ and _laas _together?"

"_Niid,"_ he responded, growing weary and irritated from the continuing conversation and the necessity of using the common tongue. _"You will have to dojrah, to learn. That knowledge is kept elsewhere. With tiid, Dovahkiin. It will take time." _

"Oh, I suppose that makes sense," she sighed, stretching her legs out in front of her. "What does _niid_ mean? Does it mean no? I think it does," she mused, wishing that she had the innate ability to simply learn the language.

"_Geh."_

"What does that mean?"

"_Yes."_

"Wait, does _geh_ mean no, or does _niid_ mean no? I'm confused now."

"_Geh is yes in your tongue, niid is no."_

She smiled, looking up at the dragon roosting on the word wall she was leaning against. "Good. What's the word for good?"

"_Pruzah."_

"_Pruzah_," she replied with a grin, letting out a small laugh, wishing that she had a little journal she could write all of these words down in. "What was the Shout that you used on me before you brought me here? I passed out, but I don't really remember," she trailed off, reaching up to scratch at her head, her mind furiously working to recall exactly what had happened. It hadn't been much of a Shout; it had been something much, much closer to a power-laden whisper. She let out a tiny contemplative grunt, recollecting the way her breath had hitched, the way her muscles had clenched and rippled, the way that—

"Ugh," she groaned, a furious flush creeping into her cheeks once she realized what the Shout had done to her. "You…you," she began, quickly rising to her feet so that she could point an accusing finger at him. "You made me…" she continued, stopping in embarrassment. "And I passed out! Then you dragged me here!"

He leaned down to laugh right in her face, something that seemed to infuriate her only more. _"Britnah, you feel pruz, do you not? I do not see the diron, the problem."_

She folded her arms over her chest, looking up to fix him with a furious scowl as she bared her teeth at him. "I don't know what you said, and I don't care. I want you to take me home, now," she snapped, muttering a quick 'jackass' underneath her breath.

"_Very well, Dovahkiin. But first, I will teach you the Thu'um needed to summon me."_

* * *

_A/N: Sigh, I know. I promised smut, and I'm sorry that there wasn't any in this chapter, and there won't be any in the next. After a lot of thought, I decided that she's still not ready. It'll take some more time to recover from what Mercer did. Now, a few notes!_

_A huge thank you to **SkyrimJunkie** for helping me work out my writer's block. I just kept dragging my feet, and did not know what I should do for this chapter._

_Slen Fel Aaz is a Shout developed within the Skyrim kink meme. Heh heh. At least she feels better now... ;)_

_I know I'm not perfect with the dragon language, but I'm learning. I'm going to do my best to make it so that no one needs to go and translate anything, because I know that my lazy ass wouldn't, so I don't want you guys to have to worry about it either._

_But anyway…she made a friend! Kind of. What's Alduin going to have to say about this? Do you think Odahviing will stay true to his word?_

**_Also, I'm really wanting to write a story from Mercer Frey's perspective. If anyone would be actually interested in reading it, let me know. If not, I'll just let someone better/more capable tackle it._**

_Next chapter, she'll be leaving for High Hrothgar. Thanks for reading! _


	23. All Things Considered

"Wait, what?" Indis asked nervously, fidgeting with the strap of her knapsack, rubbing away at the worn leather underneath her fingers. She finally looked up, meeting Odahviing's eyes. "We have to fly?"

"_Geh,"_ Odahviing replied, giving an exasperated shake of his head as he let out a growling laugh. _"How else are you to return bodein quickly otherwise? You are not zofaas of kriithhe, are you, Dovahkiin? Do great heights frighten you, Britnah?"_

"No, I am not afraid of heights," she snapped, glaring at the red dragon. When she spoke again, her voice had fallen to a low whisper. "Falling from great heights, however, is a perfectly rational fear," she added with a shudder, surprised by the dark images of plummeting from the sky and crashing on the jagged rocks below that wormed their way into her mind, unnerved by the mere prospect. She had fallen once from a tree when she was a little girl, and the faint fracture in her arm had turned into a full-on break once her father learned of her stupidity. She didn't want to fall.

"_Gaav nau,"_ he continued, jerking his head back to motion for her to climb onto his neck. _"Get on, Dovahkiin."_

Indis grasped on of the magnificent curved horns protruding from his head and used it to pull her body upwards, swinging her right leg over his long neck. Her legs instinctively squeezed tighter and her hands gripped his horns as tightly as she could. "You're sure this is safe? I-I don't know about this. You're not going to let me fall?" she asked, her voice becoming uncharacteristically shrill, cracking ever so slightly.

"_Niid, I will not let you fall."_

"But if I do fall, you will catch me, right?"

"_Geh. If you fall, I will catch you."_

Taking a deep breath, she made herself as comfortable as possible, wishing that her heart, which was thudding a fierce, erratic beat against her ribcage, would calm down. She hoped that he couldn't sense how terrified and nervous she was.

"_Volk nau, hold on. Are you ready to see the world as only a dovah can? Prepare to be zokulaad, to be jealous, of the dov."_

She clenched her eyes shut tightly, her trembling fingers and legs holding onto him as tightly as she could. When she felt his muscles move beneath her, taking off into flight, her stomach began doing nervous flips and she had to push aside the strong urge to retch. Indis knew that they were rising higher and higher into the air, and she gritted her teeth as a gust of icy wind whipped around her face.

"_Bex hin miin."_

"W-what did you say?" she called out, surprised that she could actually hear him over the loud whip of the winds.

"_Open your eyes."_

Begrudgingly, Indis pried her eyes open slowly, wincing as the frigid air made contact with them. She blinked, eyes watering from the wind and the cold, trying her hardest to adjust to the icy sting on her face. Once her eyes were fully open, and she had blinked away the tears that had formed in her eyes, she let out an astonished gasp that was quickly carried away by a gust of wind.

They were soaring high above the Rift, the day bright and cloudless, the piercing blue sky a stark, beautiful contrast to the grey, snow-capped mountains and the vivid reds, oranges and yellows of the trees below that formed a brilliant, vibrant blur beneath them. Odahviing suddenly swooped down towards a hawk flying below, and Indis let out a shriek, surprised by the sudden change in direction. After he had snapped up the bird in his jaws, he steadied himself, leveling out once more.

She opened her mouth to speak, letting out a gasping choke when the high-speed wind hit the back of her throat, making it nearly impossible to speak. Turning her head to the side so that she could get a breath of air, she spoke again, hoping that her words weren't whisked away. "This is _pruzah_," she called out with a croaking laugh, her throat hoarse from the burning wind and practicing her _Thu'um_. "This is better than _pruzah_!"

He replied with something that sounded much like a laugh, and Indis found the courage to lift one of her hands, using it to block out the bright glare of the sun as she surveyed the land below. "Don't land too close to Riften," she yelled down to him, hoping he heard. "If guards see you, they'll attack. They're not very good at what they do, they're quite incompetent actually, but still, it'd be best to avoid a fight."

* * *

Teldryn looked up at the sound of Riftweald's door opening, standing up quickly. "Stay here," he said to Casimir, ruffling the little boy's hair before setting off towards the manor's entrance. He muttered a brief curse as he stepped on a sharp little block, wishing that he hadn't chosen to forego shoes.

"Teldryn?" he heard Indis call out, her voice throaty and husky. "Are you home? Is anyone here?"

"I'm here," he grumbled, nearly tripping over a doll that was lying on the floor. He knelt down briefly, picking it up with another colorful curse, setting it on a nearby end table. "Where have you been?" he asked, the slightest bit of concern creeping into his drawling rasp. "You've been gone for a few days now."

"Just out and about. Nothing, really," she replied with a coy smile. "I'm exhausted. I could use some food and some sleep," she continued, briefly pausing, wrinkling her nose as she caught a whiff of her own foul, rank stench. "A bath, too."

He raised an eyebrow, taking in her bright red sunburned and dirty face, the dried mud and blood caked on her armor, her frizzy wild hair with pieces of grass and dried leaves stuck in it, and the crazed look in her one good eye. He let out an exasperated sigh, knowing that she would tell him what had happened and where she had been whenever she was ready. "If you say so, Indis."

"Come," she whispered, tugging his hand. "Join me. Erandur can watch Izzy and Cas."

Teldryn perked up as she led him into the bathing area, watching as she twisted a few knobs. Indis began to peel off her armor, tossing aside the dirty, fouled leather before stepping into the water. "I wish I could thank the Dwemer for this glorious technology," she sighed as she slipped into massive copper bathtub, dipping her hair below the surface of the water. "I also wish I could thank Mercer for paying for all of it and having it installed when Riftweald belonged to him. Right before I slit his throat, that is."

"What were you doing? You're absolutely filthy. When I first saw you, I thought you were some sort of homeless vagabond that had wandered in," he replied, dipping on finger into the grey, murky water.

"I was just doing a bit of exploring around the Rift. We'd been gone for so long that I had forgotten what it was like here, that's all," she insisted, drawing her knees up to her chest, hoping he didn't press it. She would eventually tell him about everything that happened, but after she had come to terms with it. "Do you want me to drain the bathtub and put some clean water in?"

"Yes, please," he replied with an overly haughty sniff. "You may be content to sit around in your own filth, but I am not."

"Look at you," she snorted, reaching down to yank the plug out of the bottom, watching the water swirl down the drain for a few seconds before she looked back up. "Such a prissy little elf."

He placed his hand over his heart, feigning indignation, before he stepped over the side to join her, waiting patiently for the bathtub to fill up again. She had already begun the second round of cleansing, and was cheerfully scrubbing away with the slimy bar of soap in her hand, humming to herself as she went along. Indis moved to her head, working the soap in her hair up to a fierce lather. Setting the soap down, she moved her hands deftly in her hair, forming her short auburn locks into one gigantic, soapy point that protruded off the top of her head.

Despite the fact that she looked completely, utterly ridiculous, he still found himself moving forward, wrapping one hand around the back of her neck, pulling her forward into a searing kiss. He broke away briefly to scowl at the soapy spike on top of her head. "Wash that out," he murmured, leaving a trail of kisses along her jawline. "You look like a damned fool."

She scrunched up her face, letting out a laugh. "Why? You've got one," she said, causing him to jump as she reached between his legs. "Heh. Fine, I'll wash it off," she sighed, ducking underneath the surface of the water.

"Not the same," he growled once she had resurfaced, leaning down to nip at her earlobe as he positioned himself above her. "I'm glad it's gone."

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes as he pushed into her, throwing an arm out to the side to grip the slippery side of the bathtub, moaning as one of his hands wandered down to one of her breasts, gently cupping it when it arrived. He pumped in and out, falling into a steady rhythm as his hands roamed freely over her soapy body. Indis opened her eyes for the briefest, most fleeting of moments, and she let out a gasp when she saw a flicker of grey, and when the flood of Mercer and the catacombs came crashing down on her, she shoved him away and scrambled towards the opposite end of the tub.

"What's wro—" he asked, stopping midsentence with a groan as he ran one hand down over his face once he realized why she had pushed him away. "You're still not ready. I should have asked first."

"Shh, it's fine," she whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. "I should have stopped you."

He shook his head, moving to press his lips to her forehead. "No, I should have never even started without asking. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she repeated, turning around so that her back was towards him. She scooted backwards, stopping when she was leaning against his chest. "Honestly Tel, it is."

"Wait, what's this?" he asked curiously, gently pushing her away so that he could inspect her back. He ran his hands along the dark black ink, taking in the tattoo of a massive, roaring dragon. "When did you get this?" Teldryn continued, lightly tapping the inked skin.

"When did I get what?" she said, whipping around, unsuccessfully trying to look at her own back. "What's on me?"

"A tattoo. Big fucker, too. A dragon."

She clawed at her back, as though that would somehow remove the design that had been permanently tattooed onto her flesh. Giving up after a few seconds, she settled against his back with an exasperated sigh. "Sanguine. It had to have been him. I'll take a look at it later, though. It's not going anywhere," she added with a satisfied yawn, resting her head against Teldryn's chest, the steady beating of his heart lulling her into a sleepy, thoughtful stupor.

She couldn't help but find her thoughts drifting back to Odahviing. He had been the most powerful dragon she had fought to date, and she couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky that she had defeated him. She had used the terrain to her advantage, ducking behind pillars, taking refuge in one of the shacks that dotted the summit. Even the sun had been in Odahviing's eyes, something that likely made it difficult for him to clearly see her. Finding the powerful conjuration scroll nestled away in her rucksack had been good fortune as well. Over the past few years, she had gotten much better with a bow, with not only her aim improving, but her increased strength had given her the ability to fire more powerful, damaging shots. She couldn't be certain, but she had felt as though he had been holding back at the beginning, and had only unleashed his full fury near the end of the fray when he had been quite injured by that point.

_Fantastic luck. Just sheer, dumb luck. That's really all there was to it. Has to be. There's no logical reason to explain why I won that fight._

"What are you thinking about?" Teldryn asked, wrapping his arms around her as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Nothing, really. I'm just tired," she replied with a yawn, inspecting her shriveled little fingers as she stretched her arms out. "Come on. Let's get out of here and go take a nap."

* * *

A sharp, rapping knock at the front door awoke Indis from her deep, wonderful sleep. She sat up in her bed, yawning and stretching as she looked out the bedroom window, surprised to see the intense golden light of the evening sun filtering in. She was surprised, and realized she must have been much more exhausted and worn down than she previously believed. After reluctantly climbing out of her warm bed and pulling on an old, worn robe, she shuffled to the front door, flinging it open when she arrived, doing her best to stifle a groan when she saw who was on the other side.

"I sent a courier with a letter for you, but you never responded," said Maven Black-Briar, pulling off her gloves as she swept past Indis. She paused once she was inside Riftweald, her disdainful eyes raking over Indis' form. "Did you just get out of bed?" she asked, making no attempt to mask the condescension that had seeped into her obnoxious voice.

"No," Indis lied, stiffing up as she pulled her robes tighter around her body. _Of course she would send a courier, even though I'm only a stone's throw away from Black-Briar Manor. Awful cow. _"I've been awake. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yes," Maven replied curtly, waiting for Indis to take the folded papers in her hands. "Consider it a wedding gift for you and Brynjolf. Congratulations," she drawled. Indis didn't think she could sound more insincere if she was trying.

As Indis read over the papers, Maven continued. "As you'll undoubtedly figure out, that is the deed to Goldenglow Estate. I am putting you in charge of running the estate and supplying me with the honey for my mead."

Indis cocked an eyebrow, resisting the urge to give an exasperated groan. _Wonderful, more stress, more unnecessary bullshit. It's just what I need._ "Thank you, Maven," she eventually replied, forcing a sickly smile onto her face. "What happened to that man, Christer? Wasn't he running it?"

Maven gave her a dismissive wave. "It turns out he was selling honey, _my_ honey, under the table to some fool who was trying to start up a meadery in the Reach. I put an end to that quite quickly," she said coldly. "I needed someone I can trust to manage the place, so I chose you."

_Fantastic, Maven trusts me. I'm not sure how I feel about that._ "Ah, thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that."

"Stop with the thank yous and the simpering little smiles. There are still a few employees that remained with the estate. I trust they can help you get started. You're a clever woman, I'm assuming this is something you can handle," the Black-Briar matriarch said, pushing past Indis and towards the door. "Oh, and don't disappoint me."

Indis shut the door behind her with a loud, irritated sigh before setting off towards the kitchen. She pulled up a stool next to Aventus, who was perched on the counter, watching her as he contentedly munched on an apple.

"Was that Maven Black-Briar?"

"Yes," Indis sighed before biting into a chunk of bread.

"I thought you hated her. You said she was a cun—"

Before Aventus could finish his thought, she had clapped a hand over his mouth, putting an end to what he had been about to repeat. "Do not repeat anything I say about Maven Black-Briar. Understand?" she asked tersely, relinquishing her grip once he had nodded. "Especially not while we're here in Riften. Now, we've still got a bit before sunset. Want to come with me to Goldenglow Estate? We've still got a bit before the sun sets."

* * *

"Listen, you two," Indis said, rubbing her temples wearily before she looked up at Vex and Arwyn. "Brynjolf and I have been talking, and we think that there's a slight chance that Mercer may have hidden something inside Riftweald that is a hint at what he's planning."

"I thought you cleared that place out," Vex replied, her brow creasing slightly. "Didn't you?"

Indis shook her head. "We never got around to finding all of the little secret stashes and hiding spots that he had. We disabled all of the traps that were in the area hidden away behind that wardrobe, and found a few hiding spots in that downstairs cellar area, but that's it."

"So, what are we supposed to do exactly?" Arwyn asked, reaching up to scratch at her head, running her hand through her ebony locks. "Are we supposed to be looking for anything specific? What did you find last time?"

"No, you won't be looking for anything specific. Well, I don't think you will be. Last time, I found a stack of detailed notes, but I think when he did that, he was taunting us. He wanted us to find him then, but I'm not so sure he does now. Brynjolf said he had mentioned other big heists, big plans before everything went to Oblivion. We might find something else if we look. I'm not certain, but it's just an idea that we had. Sound good?"

"Sounds good, boss," the blonde mumbled disinterestedly, looking down to inspect her nails.

Arwyn grinned; looking enthused at their new assignment. "When we find something, what are we supposed to do with it?"

Indis tapped her fingers on the worn, scratched wood of her desk as she considered the question. "Here," she finally replied, leaning down to pick up a worn crate near the desk, emptying it out of the few random items inside. "If you find anything, then just put it in here, and once you're done clearing the place out then send a courier to find me. I'll come back as soon as I can. Oh, and I want the both of you to be careful while you're doing this."

The dark-haired Imperial frowned, resting her head on a still bored and disinterested Vex's shoulder. "Wait, why do we need to be careful?"

"Because it's still very possible that there are traps that we missed the first time we went through. Just be careful, and I'll just go ahead and warn you, you'll find some odd stuff in there. Mercer's a nutty bastard."

Arwyn leaned forward, her eyes widening eagerly. "What kinds of strange things have you found in there, boss?"

"Just," Indis began, stopping suddenly. Shortly after moving into Riftweald, she and Teldryn had begun to delicately tear apart and dismantle the manor's interior in search of traps Mercer had laid. Throughout the process, they had discovered a number of strange items. In a lockbox under the floorboards had been a bizarre little stuffed creature, with body parts of skeevers, deer, and mudcrabs sewn together. In a sliding compartment under a desk, she had found dozens of drawings of eyes tucked away. "Just be careful. I'm not going to say. I don't want to ruin the surprises for you. Teldryn and Erandur have both been told to let you come and go as you please, and I've told them what you'll be doing. Now, go get to work."

* * *

"Bees?" Ralof asked, his dismay poorly disguised as he frowned, a deep crease forming in his brow.

"Yes, bees," Indis replied, letting out a long exhale as she beckoned for him to follow her towards the hives across the small wooden bridge. The rickety path swayed as they walked across, and to steady herself, she reached out to grip the fraying ropes that held it together. "You said you wanted work so you didn't have to go back to the College, so here you have it."

"Bees, though," he continued, his puzzlement still evident. "What am I supposed to do with bees?"

She whipped around, her lips forming a thin, terse line. "You're going to teach them how to sing and dance so that they can perform for Jarls," she snapped, irate with the endless barrage of questions that he had launched her way after she had brought him out to Goldenglow. At the rate things were going, with all of the new stresses and issues that were being continuously piled upon her, she would jump off the mountaintop once she finally managed to drag herself to High Hrothgar. "Honey, you idiot," she continued, sighing when his eyes widened. "What else would you want to do with bees?"

"Sorry for being such a thorn in your side," he retorted, scowling at her. "When did I become such an irritation to you?"

"You always have been," she mumbled in response, briefly ducking her head into one of the hives, reemerging once after a few seconds. After taking in the forward slouch of his shoulders and his crestfallen expression, she closed the distance between him, gently placing a hand on his forearm. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," she said softly, giving his arm a squeeze. "I've just been under a lot of pressure lately, that's all. There's a lot asked of me, a lot of people making demands, and this place is just one of them. I'm sorry."

He shrugged, managing to work up a tiny smile. "No matter. All is forgiven. Now, you said something about a Rune?" he asked, evident confusion creeping back into his voice.

"Ah, yes. Rune!" she called out, clapping her hands together before waving to get the attention of the short Imperial man on the other side of the wooden bridge. "I figured I should get someone from the Guild to help you, Erandur, and Aventus, since Maven is a firm supporter of the organization. Just do everything he and Erandur say," she continued wearily. "Do that, and this place will run perfectly fine."

* * *

_She had returned to the summit where she had fought Odahviing, and was surprised to see that the demolished shack, the churned-up soil, scorched grasses, and other signs of their battle had completely vanished. Raising one hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she spied a familiar figure in the distance, leaning comfortably against the crumbling word wall. _

"_Well," she surmised as she arrived by his side, folding her arms over her chest. "I suppose you must want something from me, or have a demand if we're doing this again. You don't need to worry, though. I'm leaving for High Hrothgar tomorrow. I promise."_

_He smiled. "I know of your plans, Dragonborn," Arkay replied, giving a deep laugh. "I trust you will keep to your word."_

"_I will," she replied, surveying the area around them. "Interesting choice for this time, though. It is much better than Castle Volkihar. That place was so damn dreary. I battled a dragon here recently," she continued, unable to keep the slightest bit of pride from creeping into her voice. "Quite a difficult battle, actually. I won, though."_

"_I know," he responded, an uncharacteristic twinkle in his eye. "What was his name? Odahviing?"_

_Indis cocked an eyebrow, watching him curiously. She didn't think that the Divines would have paid much mind to a simple battle with a dragon. "You were paying attention?"_

"_We all were, Dragonborn. Of course, some did much more than pay attention."_

"_Wait, what…" she trailed off, her mental wheels furiously clicking and whirring, struggling to put the pieces together. "There…there wasn't interference, was there? Wh-what did you do?"_

_He chuckled. "You're very clever. It's difficult to get things past you, Dragonborn. I knew you'd eventually figure it out, provided you had a few hints. Although, I will say that I did not do much. Kynareth did manipulate the elements a bit. The sun blinding his eyes, the wind blowing burning grasses away from you, ah, yes. That was all her. Your true aim, your strength? You have Talos to thank for that. They were not the only to get involved, though."_

_She groaned, her shoulders slouching. Kynareth? Talos? She didn't even recognize him as a Divine! Apparently he was, though. She should have known better than to think that she had been good enough to best a dragon as powerful as Odahviing. "Who else was involved?" she grumbled, the smug pride she had felt quickly waning._

_His smile faded, and he pursed his lips into a thin, tight line. "You are a Nightingale of Nocturnal, are you not?"_

"_I am."_

"_It seems Lady Luck also holds you in her favor. There are many who have a stake in Nirn, and would not want to see it devoured by the World-Eater."_

"_So, what you're saying is that if it hadn't been for Divines and Daedra interfering, he likely would have burned me to a crisp and ripped all of my limbs off?" she sighed, leaning against the wall next to him. "That I didn't truly win the battle?"_

"_Now, don't say that," Arkay said, patting her shoulder, looking down at her as though she were a sulking, scowling, petulant child. "You did plenty."_

_After a few moments of silence, she sighed, her brow furrowing in contemplation. "Besides not wanting me to become dragon food, why else would there be such involvement? Is there another reason?"_

"_Odahviing will be a powerful ally," he stated simply. "Curry favor, earn his trust. Do what needs to be done in order to earn his full loyalty."_

"_Why, though? Why him?"_

_He smiled again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "That is for you to learn on your own, Dragonborn. Now, hurry. It's time for you to begin your journey to High Hrothgar."_

_She sniffed, raising her chin ever so slightly. "You don't need to worry about it, I will be leaving soon."_

"_Good. Many were beginning to get worried that you would either never get around to making the journey, or you would get yourself killed before you could, so it was decided that—" he stopped abruptly, reaching up to rub his jaw. _

_Her eyes narrowed. "What was decided?"_

"_Perhaps it would be best not to say."_

"_Tell me," she insisted, her eyes becoming angry little slits. _

"_It was decided that one of your children would be Dragonborn as well, just in case you didn't, or weren't, able to follow through with the task at hand."_

"_Which one?"_

"_Once again, that is something else for you to discover on your own."_

_She scowled at him, letting out a snort of indignation. "It's wonderful to know that you have such little faith in me. Let me wake up, or send me back, whatever it is you need to do. I have seven thousand steps to climb."_

* * *

Indis woke up with a stretch and a yawn, her hand landing on a cool, smooth object as she rolled over. Opening her eyes, she rubbed the sleep away as she inspected the item her hand was clasping. It was a skull.

"You know, I liked it better when you just left me with an amulet," she muttered, running the tip of her finger over the ossified sutures. She hoped he heard. "This is a little odd. What's next, an entire skeleton?" she continued with a sigh, setting it on her bedside table.

"Who're you talking to?" called out a slurred voice, and Indis clambered out of bed, searching for Teldryn.

"No one," she replied, pulling her hair up into a messy bun. "I was just talking to myself. Are you drunk?" she asked, watching as he took a huge swig from a large tankard.

"Lil' bit. That Sanguine left some of his special brew behind. Only had a few tankards of it. Maybe five, maybe six. Want some?"

She shook her head. He was much more than just a little drunk. "No, I need to get packed. Also," she said, pausing slightly, uncertain of how he would react to what she would say next. "I think I'll stay with Brynjolf tonight. He hasn't said anything, but I know it bothers him that I haven't yet."

He frowned, his mouth working itself into a furious scowl. "No. No, you won't."

"Yes, I will," she retorted, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm not going to do anything with him, honestly. I promise. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, you're not? You're not going to fuck him?"

"No, I'm not."

"Pffft," he replied, clumsily staggering after her, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her pack her knapsack. "Liar. You're going to fuck him, I just know it. How could you not? Just look at him. He's absurdly handsome and charming," he continued, letting out a loud belch before uttering a final, biting sentence. "It was a part of your whore arrangement that you demanded I go along with."

She turned away from him, angrily shoving armor into her knapsack. "What is wrong with you?" she whispered tearfully. "I don't understand why you're being like this."

"I don't understand why you insist on being such a sleazy little harlot," he said angrily. "You know, I bet Mercer Frey didn't even force himself on you. I bet you wanted it."

He had opened his mouth, ready to continue when the sharp crack of her hand making contact with his face cut him off. "Get out. You think I'm a lying whore? If this is really what you think of me, I want you to get the fuck out," she hissed, pausing briefly to wipe away tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks. "When I get back, I don't want to see you again. We're over."

"Good," he slurred, tossing the now empty tankard aside. "Yanno, I'm glad we're not married."

She slapped him again, leaving another bright red, stinging hand print on his cheek. As she made to leave, she turned back to say one final thing. "You know what? I am too."

* * *

After Indis had stormed off, after she had so suddenly ended things with Teldryn, she hadn't even felt the urge to go see Brynjolf. All she wanted was to get out of Riften as quickly as possible. She had hoisted her pack over her shoulder, said goodbye to her children, stopping to briefly to talk with Erandur after Teldryn had stumbled away.

The workers at the Riften stables hadn't yet started their day, so she was able to choose a horse to take without little worry of being caught. She chose a handsome, dark brown gelding, bridling and saddling him as quickly as she could manage with her trembling, shaking hands, finally finishing up by strapping her pack onto his side. Placing one boot in the stirrup, she grasped the pommel and pulled herself upwards, slinging her right leg over. Once she had settled into the saddle comfortably, she gave a light tug on the reins and dug her heel into the horse's side to spur the beast into a light canter, beginning the journey to High Hrothgar.

* * *

_A/N: Well, there you have it! She's finally heading out to High Hrothgar. She'll get to meet the Greybeards soon. What do you think they'll think of her?_

_I hope you like Odahviing, because he'll be coming back pretty frequently. Poor Indis, here she was, thinking she won the fight with him because she was a badass. She still is a badass, she just got some help._

_Thanks Maven. Goldenglow is appreciated. NOT. Will things run wonderfully and smoothly, or will something go wrong?_

_I'm sorry to end that on a depressing note! People say some mean, nasty stuff when they're drunk, you know? Think he'll be regretting what he said? Will Brynjolf step in to make it all better, or will a lovely vampire be the one to do that?_

_I have also started work on the next chapter of Uncommon Reaction. That should be up by the end of the weekend. _

_Thanks again for reading. As always, reviews, follows, and favorites = love. _


	24. Regrets and Summits

Indis tossed the empty bottle of skooma into the scraggly bushes near the worn, beaten path her horse trotted down, reaching into one of the many pockets that lined the chest of her Guildmaster's armor, searching for another. Her fingers brushed past the Skeleton Key safely nestled away in one of the pouches, a slight chill running down her spine. She knew that she needed to tell Brynjolf about it, about Mercer simply handing it over, but even though she had only used it that once, she found herself clinging on to it.

Her hand emerged with another bottled of skooma, and it took mere seconds for her to pop out the cork and down the mixture, tossing the second bottle aside to join the first. She let out a long, satisfied exhale, finally feeling calm enough to think about Teldryn without bursting into tears again. She couldn't stop mulling over what he had said to her, what he had called her, but the skooma had lulled her into a dulled emotional haze, and the tears had stopped flowing.

"Whoa, whoa," she whispered, gently tugging on her horse's reins. The horse nickered softly as it came to a stop, shaking its head before dipping down to begin munching on the sparse grass below. She groaned as she looked at the imposing, crumbling structure in the distance once she realized once it was. Indis shifted in the saddle, wondering what she should do as she gazed out towards Faldar's Tooth.

It was an enormous, ruined old fort teeming with bandits, and she'd heard stories about the bold mercenaries and adventurers that set out to clear them out in hopes of collecting a bounty. None had ever come back successful, if they had even returned at all. She leaned forward slightly, squinting as she counted the figures patrolling the outer bulwarks.

"Shit," she mumbled under her breath, nervously tapping her foot in the stirrup as she considered her options. She had forgotten about Faldar's Tooth, and if she had remembered the dangerous place, she would have headed to Ivarstead on the road on the other side of Lake Honrich. She could turn around and head back to Riften, but she'd lose several hours. Her best option was to head down to the shoreline, proceed as quietly and carefully as she could, and hope that none of the bandits took notice of her. There was no way she could take them on alone. "I really should have thought this through," she lamented to herself, tugging on the reins, steering her horse down towards Lake Honrich.

The soft clop of the horse's footsteps was the only sound as it ambled slowly along the shoreline. Indis had slackened her vice-like grip on the reins, ready to let out a sigh of relief. It was looking as though they would be in the clear, when suddenly a mudcrab arose from its submerged location at the edge of the lake, startling her horse. The animal reared up on its hind legs, tossing her onto her back before bolting. She inhaled through gritted teeth, slowly sitting up as she listened to the sounds of bandits shouting, readying themselves for an attack. _So much for passing by quietly_, she thought, climbing to her feet. She had expected the horse to dart away, but she watched as it headed straight into the fray.

"Fantastic, now my dumbass horse is going to get itself killed, too," she mumbled as she placed her hands on the hilts of her swords, readying one in each hand. The bandits had released a trio of pit wolves from their cage, and the animals were barreling towards her horse, teeth bared, snarling. She waited with bated breath, expecting the gelding to get torn down, but she let out an impressed exhale as the horse's hoof made contact with a wolf's skull, a sharp crack resounding through the air, and the animal quickly lay still. Indis was ready to follow the stupid, brave horse, which had charged into the middle of the fort, when an arrow whizzed by her head, planting itself deep in the bark of the tree next to her. Glancing up, she saw at least two dozen bandits scurrying about on the outer embankments, and those were just the ones that she saw. There was no denying it. She needed help.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled a Shout to the front of her mind, readying herself to call out, praying to every Divine and Daedra that it worked.

"_OD AH VIING!"_

* * *

Brynjolf shot one final, searing scowl towards the unconscious Dunmer man's direction before shutting the door behind him, making the tiniest bit of effort to slam it. He turned towards Ralof and Erandur, letting out a loud sigh.

"Any idea when he'll wake up?"

Erandur shook his head. "He drank quite a bit, unfortunately. Fear not, though. He'll wake up eventually, and when he does, I'll be here to remind him of what he said to her," he replied, giving a rueful smile. "Drink tends to addle the mind, and often, many forget what they've said or done afterwards. I'll make sure he remembers every little detail."

"What'd you do with the rest of that wretched drink?" Ralof asked, leaning against the wall.

"I poured it all out behind the manor," Erandur said, gesturing to the now empty keg lying on a nearby table. "I need to dispose of this as well."

"Now," Brynjolf began, folding his arms over his chest. "Who's going to go after the lass to make sure she's fine? She has a bad habit of getting herself into unpleasant situations, and she can't be feeling too well if that fight was as nasty as you said it was."

Erandur and Ralof exchanged a fleeting glance, and the blond Nord cleared his throat. "Well, we were talking, and we think you should be the one to do it. Someone needs to stay here to look after Israna and Casimir, and Indis put both of us in charge of running that wretched little bee farm, and we figured you could get someone else to run things while you're away. She's strong, she can manage on her own, but you're right. It wouldn't be a bad idea to see how she's doing. Besides, you're her husband now, right? I've gotten too fat for that sort of thing," Ralof groaned, gesturing to his small, rotund stomach. "I get tired easily."

"Aye, I am," Brynjolf sighed, mind already working away, mentally working out what he would need to accomplish before he left. "I'll leave as soon as possible."

As Brynjolf turned to leave, Ralof reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, magicka welling up in the palm of his spare hand. "Wait, before you go, there's a spell I think you ought to learn."

"What is it?"

"A calming spell. You'll probably need it once you find her. Teldryn's mentioned before that if you get good enough at it, she'll just settle right down and fall asleep. Of course, you don't want to be around when she wakes up," he added with a chuckle, his face falling as he thought of the Dunmer man. "Good luck, Brynjolf."

* * *

If the bandits of Faldar's Tooth had any doubts about her presence, the Shout that cracked through the chilled autumn air like the crack of a whip erased any uncertainties, and she raced forward, heading towards the fort. Several came pouring through the narrow, arched entrance searching for her, and the archers on the ramparts above fired a steady stream of arrows. An iron arrow made contact with her thigh, and she faltered slightly, letting out a grunt of pain. She snapped off part of it so that it didn't get in the way, continuing forward, hoping that it wasn't poisoned. It would have to be dealt with later, but at the moment, there was a pair of outlaws barreling directly towards her.

"Come on, Odahviing," she gasped as she lunged forward, Chillrend slicing through a bandit's hide armor with ease. The woman fell to her knees, breathless and choking, still gripping the leather bound handle of her battle axe. Indis placed her crossed blades at the base of the bandit's neck, sweeping her arms outward, sending the woman's head flying. A bandit who had witnessed his comrade's death began to back away with widening eyes as he watched his friend's head roll down towards the lake, and unsuccessfully attempted to flee back to the safety of the fort soon perished when Indis caught up with him from behind, driving both of her blades through his back. She yanked the swords out, and had just begun to give up hope when she heard it.

It was the loud, unmistakable roar of a dragon, echoing throughout the clear, blue sky.

The attention was drawn from her as Odahviing swooped down, setting several of her foes alight with a massive plume of fire. They had attempted to fruitlessly fight back, but ended up crumpling to the ground with pained wails, becoming nothing more than charred and misshapen lumps of flesh. Ducking under the cover of the archway that led into the fort, Indis quickly sheathed her blades, pulling her bow off her back. Her dragon ally was making quick work of the bandits, and having him as a distraction allowed her to pick off those bandits scurrying about in the courtyard. The screams had stopped as well as the roar of fire, and she stepped forward, leaving the safety of the archway as she took aim at the bandit chief that was somehow still alive. Pulling her bowstring back, she was ready to release her arrow when Odahviing landed on the ground behind the chief. The ground quaked beneath her feet and she stumbled, her arrow falling to the ground as she grabbed at the nearby wall to regain her balance. With one snap of his mighty jaws, the bandit's life was quickly snuffed out, and Indis watched as Odahviing tossed his head back, throwing the mangled, limp figure to the back of his throat where he disappeared with a sickening crunch.

"You know, I had him," Indis grunted as she limped forward, the blood pooling in her boot making a wet squelch with every step forward. "I was about to fire and everything. Thank you for your help, though. There were just too many to take on alone."

Odahviing turned his head, regarding her curiously. _"Dovahkiin, you are fiiz,"_ he said in his low, throaty rumble as he regarded the arrow in her leg.

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand, not wanting to appear weak, not wanting to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind that she was an unworthy winner of their battle. "It's fine," she replied, gingerly prodding the injured area, letting out a short hiss of pain. Indis removed her hand from her leg, reaching over to give him an appreciative pat on his long, scaled neck. "I'll take care of it later. Well done, partner."

_Partner_. It was a strange word to him, one that was almost foreign. It certainly wasn't something Alduin considered him to be. _"Is there anything else you praag, Britnah? Do you require anything else?"_

"Yes, actually," she said, trailing off as she watched her foolhardy horse trot up to her, staring at her with blank, expressionless eyes. It glanced at Odahviing, seemingly unnerved by the dragon resting next to it. _How the fuck is that horse still alive?_ she briefly wondered, quickly brushing it off. "Would you mind flying me up? Actually, could you take me to High Hrothgar?"

"_Niid."_

"Fine," she huffed, fumbling around in her bag. "Damn Greybeards would probably consider it cheating anyway, if I didn't climb those steps myself. Well, can you at least fly me up a bit? I want to see how far I am from Ivarstead."

He lowered his neck, waiting patiently as she pulled on the Dwemer goggles she had found in an old ruin. She had snatched them on her way out of Riftweald, thinking that they would keep the biting winds out of her eyes. After wrapping a worn red shawl around her nose and mouth, she climbed over his neck, taking care not to agitate the wound in her leg. Closing her eyes during the takeoff, she opened them once more after several seconds, scanning the terrain below.

"Still a ways," she mumbled, feeling disheartened, spotting the tall peak that High Hrothgar rested on in the far distance. The fight with the bandits had put her behind, and having a wounded leg would undoubtedly slow her down. "Thank you, Odahviing," she called out, and he swooped down, landing in the courtyard of the fort once more. She clambered off, taking several large steps backwards, watching as he gave her one final nod.

"_Vonok, Dovahkiin,"_ he said simply, taking off in flight once more.

She watched as he soared away before turning to the russet gelding languidly chewing on a pile of hay it had found. Placing her scarf and goggles back in her rucksack, she pulled herself up into the saddle, digging her boots into its side. "Come on. Let's see how much further we can get before nightfall."

* * *

Teldryn rubbed his throbbing temples, trying to ignore the _whoosh_ of blood that hammered against his eardrums. Raising one hand to block out the brilliant, golden light of evening that filtered in through the uncovered window, he threw off the blankets. He stood slowly before slowly shuffling out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, leaning against the counter so that he was directly across from Erandur.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice even more hoarse and rasping than usual. He watched as the priest deftly moved a pair of knitting needles in a steady rhythm, working the yarn wrapped around them. "How long have I been out? Where's Indis? She'll be furious if I've delayed our departure to High Hrothgar."

"Knitting," Erandur replied, surprising Teldryn with his sharp, curt tone. "Winter is coming, so I'm making things to keep Israna and Casimir warm," he continued, stopping suddenly. "Do you not remember what happened last night?"

Teldryn gave a slight shake of his head as he furrowed his brow. "No, I don't. I remember finding some of that drink that was left behind, but other than that, no. I remember nothing. What happened?"

Erandur began knitting again, the clack of his needles making contact breaking the awkward silence that had fallen after Teldryn uttered his last question. "Ah, let's see. Where should we begin," he trailed off, never breaking his stable rhythm. "I'll give you the briefest version possible, and if you want to know more details, then simply ask. To make a long story short, you got absurdly drunk, she told you that she was going to spend the night with Brynjolf, you got absolutely furious and called her a whore, amongst other things, and you two finished up your nasty fight with her kicking you out, ending things between you and her," he finished calmly, pausing to inspect his work.

Teldryn lifted his head from his hands, abruptly stopping the process of massaging his aching head. He stared at Erandur, absolutely dumbfounded. "No," he finally said, shaking his head. "That…no."

"Oh, but yes. It most certainly did. That Brynjolf man, wonderful fellow, went after her to make sure she was fine. She stormed off, and I think she left Riften immediately afterwards and began her journey alone."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Teldryn groaned, slumping down in a nearby chair. "Tell me what I said to her. Tell me everything."

Erandur raised an eyebrow. "Everything? If you insist…some of it was quite unpleasant."

"Tell me."

"Where should I begin? Well, you called the agreement that you two had worked out with Brynjolf a 'whore arrangement'. You also called her a liar, when she told you that she wouldn't be sleeping with him. I'm not sure who Mercer Frey is, but you told her that you thought that she was lying about him forcing himself on her, and that she had wanted it. You also told her that you're happy that you're not married to her. Is that it?" he mused out loud, calmly tapping his chin with one slim finger as he reflected on what he had overheard. "No, I believe that was all, although it was more than enough."

"Oh, fuck me," Teldryn groaned, burying his face in his hands as he tried to process what he had just been told. He remained silent for several minutes before he quickly stood. "You said she left?"

"Yes, I did. About two days ago, I believe. Also, she said she wanted you to leave, and that you were no longer welcome here. You'll want to make sure that you've cleared out before she returns. She was quite adamant about that."

Teldryn looked up, meeting Erandur's eyes. "_Please_ tell me that I didn't strike her."

"No, you didn't."

_Well, _he thought grimly to himself. _It could have been worse, I suppose. This is pretty much damn well near the bottom, though. _"I'm going after her. I need to fix this."

"Do you really think that will do any good?" Erandur asked calmly, watching his brother curiously.

"I don't know, but I need to try," Teldryn groaned, snatching a knapsack off a nearby counter. Deep down, a large part of him knew that he had already lost her that he had royally fucked up in the cruelest and most awful of ways, but he needed to find her. He needed to apologize, to grovel, to beg, to push aside his pride to tell her that he meant none of it and to show her just how much she meant to him, and just how much he loved her. "If I leave now, hopefully I can catch up with her soon."

Erandur gave him a small, sad smile, one that suggested his efforts were in vain. "It would be wiser to leave tomorrow at dawn. It's not worth the risk to travel in the dark."

His hand stopped on an apple, and Teldryn let out a sigh. Erandur was right. He quickly shoved it into the satchel, making the quick decision to pack tonight and leave tomorrow at first light. He had to make things right, no matter how difficult it would be to do so.

He wanted, _needed_, her back.

* * *

Indis undid the leather ties wrapped around her bedroll, shaking the old leaves and twigs onto the ground below before laying it out underneath the shabby little tent she had managed to construct. A loud crack of thunder startled her, and she dropped the apple that she had just retrieved from her pack. Picking it up, she wiped it off as she stood, peeking out from underneath the overhang. A few droplets of rain splattered down on her face, and as she wiped them away, she found herself grateful that she had found a rocky outcrop to set her camp up underneath.

Walking over the brave horse that had inexplicably survived its attack on the fort of bandits, she offered the apple in her hand, letting out a laugh as the gelding snatched it up. She wiped the animal's drool off onto her pants, flinching when her arm accidentally caught against the broken arrow that was still wedged in her leg. Sucking in air through clenched teeth, she closed her eyes, shutting them as tightly as she could, waiting until the pain had subsided to a dull throb once more. Tottering back over to her makeshift tent, she was ready to lower herself to the ground and begin the process of removing the arrow when the sharp crack of a twig snapping in half caught her attention.

"Hello? Who's there?" she called out as she hobbled toward her blades, which were resting against a rotting tree stump.

"Calm down, lass. It's just me," replied a familiar voice, and she squinted through the dusky twilight at the figure approaching through the rain, leading a horse.

"Brynjolf? What are you doing here?"

"Just seeing how you're doing after that little spat with Teldryn," he said, shaking his head, letting droplets of water fly all over the place. He led his horse over to where Indis' was, tying it up alongside the other animal before turning his attention to her.

She snorted, gradually lowering herself to the ground. "Little spat? If that was a little spat, then the eruption of the Red Mountain was just a wee little flare-up. I'm fine," she lied, lying back on her bedroll. She sat back up once more, inspecting him with concern.

"Is something wrong?"

"Look at you," she fussed, standing up once more. "You're soaking wet. You're going to catch a cold like that. Here, let me get a fire started."

"Lass, I don't think so. Just sit down, and I'll take care of it. For the love of the Eight, you've got a bloody arrow sticking out of your leg, so just let me handle the fire," he insisted, helping her get comfortable. She leaned back, watching him as he collected the sparse, dry chunks of wood lying underneath the overhand, placing them in a pile. After he had placed a ring of stones around the heap of wood, he turned to her. "You know a flames spell, right?"

Indis nodded, conjuring up a tiny, flickering flame in her palm, concentrating as she directed the stream of flames towards the campfire. She settled back once more on her bedroll, letting out a sigh. "You didn't have to come after me, you know. I can handle myself just fine. I appreciate the concern, though."

Brynjolf pulled off his cuirass, resting it on a mossy stone so that it could dry before yanking a dry shirt he had found in his pack down over his head. "I've no doubts, Indis. I just wanted to make sure. I was concerned, that's all," he said, giving her a kind smile before he settled down on the ground next to her. "Now, let's see about this arrow," he continued, giving a gentle tug on the shaft, releasing it when she let out an agonized hiss.

"I know I should have taken it out, but Teldryn always did it for me," she sighed, her thoughts drifting back to him once more. She was unsurprised when tears welled up in her eyes. Wiping them away, she continued. "I know it's not a bad injury, but I hate pulling them out myself. I can't ever do it fast enough. Just do it."

She gritted her teeth, and within seconds, the arrow had been yanked from her leg. Indis exhaled deeply, giving him an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Bryn. I'll just heal this up," she said, the pale, golden light of a healing spell forming in her palm. It had been a simple spell to learn, and she was happy that she had finally taken the time to add it to her repertoire of magic.

"Wait," he said, staying her hand. "You should wash it out first. That arrow looked pretty damn dirty."

She gnawed nervously on her lip, knowing that she would have to take her trousers off in order to do so. Glancing up at him briefly, Indis hoped that he thought that the red flush on her face was from the nearby fire. Wriggling out of her pants, she tossed them to the side before accepting the small tankard of rainwater that he passed to her. After dumping it over the wound, she let the healing spell flow over her leg, watching as the tendrils of light knit broken, marred flesh back together.

"That," she sighed with satisfaction as she gently prodded her thigh, looking down at the puckered scar. It was still slightly tender, but it had improved a great deal already. "Feels much, much better."

"I'm glad," Brynjolf replied as he stood, making his way over to his knapsack. "We ought to get some rest. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted."

Indis watched as he began to set up his own tent a short distance away from hers, surprised when she felt a small pang of guilt. "You know, there's plenty of room in mine. I bet it'll fit two," she said, gesturing to the small, temporary structure. It was fairly large, and besides, they _were_ technically married. "You could stay with me. If you wanted, that is."

He looked up at her, surprised. "Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother to you."

She shook her head. "It's fine, I insist," she said, crawling inside the tent. She made herself comfortable as he followed suit and settled down next to her. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Brynjolf finally spoke.

"So, what'd you name him?"

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, flipping over so that she was facing him, a puzzled expression working its way onto her face.

He gestured back behind him, waving his arm in a vague, lazy motion. "Your horse, I mean. Did you pick out a name for him?"

Indis shrugged. "Why would I? Why would I bother getting attached? He'll probably end up dying, or running off. He's probably just going to call me a whore, and then tell me that he's glad he's not my horse anymore," she retorted, surprising him and herself when she let out a choking sob. She reached up to brush away the tears, feeling humiliated. She needed more skooma. She was already coming down off her most recent high, and fast.

Instead of pushing it, Brynjolf changed the subject. "You know, I always liked these?" he said quietly, brushing his fingers along her bare forearm, running it along her freckled skin.

She scowled at the little copper dots on her arm, letting out a long sigh. "My freckles? I always hated them, probably because my father never missed an opportunity to remind me of how hideous they were. Once, I told him that every time he was an ass to me, I got a new one," she remarked, letting out a bitter laugh as she inspected the thousands of little specks covering her skin. "He did not take that well."

"I'm sorry. He sounds like an fuckwit who didn't realize how wonderful you were," he whispered, moving forward, just enough to kiss her on the forehead.

She laughed, a sound that he was happy to hear. "Perhaps. He was awful, but it wasn't always so bad. I learned how to hide from him early on. Do you remember that job where I twisted myself into a ball and hid in that tiny little wardrobe when that family came home during the middle of a job?"

Brynjolf scratched his head, recalling the impressive feat. "Aye, I do."

"Years of practice, cramming myself into tiny spaces from an early age," she yawned, stretching her arms. "We should probably get to sleep," she mumbled drowsily as she rolled over, pulling a fur up over her legs. "We'll want to leave at first light. Assuming you're coming with me to High Hrothgar."

"I was planning on it."

"Good," she replied, drifting off to sleeping. The last sensation she remembered before dozing off was of Brynjolf wrapping a protective arm around her.

* * *

"You know what?" Indis called out, adjusting the goggles that covered her face as she turned towards Brynjolf. "I don't think that there are really seven thousand steps."

He gave a snort that was quickly carried away by the whistling wind, urging his horse to pick up the pace so that he could catch up with her. It had been four days since he had caught up with her. They had made relatively quick progress to the small town of Ivarstead, but the journey up to High Hrothgar had been proved to be wearisome and arduous. Despite the raging blizzard, the wild beasts, and the fatigue that they had contended with, they were a stone's throw away from the summit. They had made it.

"How would you know? Did you count?"

"Yes," she laughed. She was in good spirits after downing a few bottles of skooma, which had helped drive away the chill that seemed to settle deep down in her bones. "I counted every single one of them. The six thousand, three hundred and ninety one steps."

He chuckled, glancing over at her, frowning when he saw her face. "Your nose is bleeding."

"Is it?" she asked, reaching one hand up to touch her face. Her brown glove came back with a splotch of red on it, and she frowned. She shifted to look at him, and he realized that the crimson flow down her face had only intensified.

"It is. It's probably the drier air up here, and the change in altitude. It happens sometimes."

She shrugged, quickly dismounting her horse, looking around for a place to tether it. She wrapped the reins around an old stone post. "I'll be right back, so don't you go anywhere, Horse," she instructed, patting the animal on the neck. "I'll find somewhere warm to put you."

Indis trudged up the steps towards the imposing building, coming to a full stop once she had arrived at the large set of doors. Taking a deep breath, she pushed them open, stepping into the heady warmth of High Hrothgar.

* * *

_A/N: First off, may I just say how freaking awesome and spectacular all of you guys for all of the love and support you've given Indis and her story? 275 reviews! That's freaking insane to me, and I have the hugest smile on my face right now. I never expected her story to take off like this, and I wouldn't have made it this far without all of you awesome people. I'm still working on putting my brain back into my skull, because my mind = blown._

_Second, thank you guest reviewer! Yes, the lovely vampire is Serana. She'll be making an appearance in a couple of chapters. :)_

_Also, Horse is based off of her horse in-game. I don't remember where I got him, just kinda randomly picked him up somewhere. I didn't name him, because I didn't want to get attached, figuring he would die in about 10 minutes. He hasn't. He's fought bandits, beasts, dragons, and vampires with me, and is somehow miraculously alive. Go Horse!_

_Next chapter is all about High Hrothgar, pretty much. There's going to be a lot more Indis and Brynjolf, she'll get to meet the Greybeards, and Teldryn will set out off to find her. _

_Also, I still have some reviews to respond to, and I may have chapters of some of your works that I haven't gotten to yet. I'll get to those tomorrow. Right now, it's bedtime!_


	25. Heartlines

"Well, we're here," Indis murmured wearily as they stepped inside. Her goggles fogged from the warmth of the monastery, and she pulled them off along with her scarf as she surveyed the chamber they had just stepped into. It was empty. The large door they had entered through finally shut with a dull thud, sending a quiet echo throughout the room. "Where do you think everyone is?"

Brynjolf shrugged, busy untying his cloak. "Not sure. It is pretty late, so everyone may have turned in for the day."

Before she could respond, a quiet voice interrupted them. "Ah, welcome to High Hrothgar," called out an older man. They both turned, watching as an older man in grey robes slowly swept towards them, giving a slight bow of his head as he arrived in front of them. "I thought I had heard the doors opening. There aren't many that make the long pilgrimage up the seven thousand steps. My name is Arngeir, and I'm one of the Greybeards."

"There aren't seven thousand. That's what I came here to tell you," Indis said, making a feeble attempt at a joke. The man named Arngeir simply stared at her, with what appeared to be mild confusion and bewilderment. "It was a joke," she continued, stepping forward. "I'm here because I received your summons, quite a long time ago, actually. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get up here."

His brow furrowed as he contemplated what she had said, and after a few seconds, his eyes suddenly widened as the realization dawned upon him. "Dragonborn? You've finally made it to High Hrothgar. It has been a while, some years," he replied, eyes narrowing as he inspected her. She was a tiny little thing, dried rivers of blood all over her scowling, tired face, dressed in dirty armor. He wasn't entirely certain who he expected the Dragonborn to be, but it wasn't her.

"Sorry about that," Indis mumbled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She had hoped that they would have conveniently lost track of time, and wouldn't realize just how long it had been. "My name is Indis, by the way. This is, this is…my, umm, this is my…" she trailed off, lazily gesturing to Brynjolf. _Husband. He's your husband. Is it really that difficult to say?_ She cleared her throat, finally finishing her statement. "This is Brynjolf."

"A pleasure to meet you both," Arngeir replied, giving them a small smile. She hadn't noticed Brynjolf's small flinch at the way she introduced him, but the Greybeard certainly did. "The hour is late, and you both must be exhausted. You are more than welcome to stay here. However, before I show you to your room, I must administer a simple test."

She let out a tiny groan, all good feelings from the thoughts of a soft bed and a hot meal immediately dissipating. "What kind of test?" she asked, irritation seeping into her voice.

"Nothing too difficult. At least it shouldn't be, if you are indeed the Dragonborn. All I need is for you to demonstrate the power of your _Thu'um_ to prove that you truly are the Dovahkiin. That is all."

Indis frowned, and let out a long, melodramatic sigh. "What do I need to do? Shout at you, or something?"

"Yes, that would prove your status. Now, use the word of power that you demonstrated the first time you absorbed a dragon's soul. Do you remember it?"

She nodded. _Fus._ She had learned it in Bleak Falls Barrow, and it was one of the two that she knew. It had to be the one that he was talking about.

"Good," he continued, walking to the center of the room. "Now, I want you to use it on me," Arngeir paused briefly when a look of horror crossed her face, and he held up one hand to stop her from speaking. "Don't worry, I can handle it. Now, Dragonborn. Demonstrate the power of your _Thu'um_!"

Indis took a deep breath, positioning herself a few feet away from him. "_Fus!_" she shouted, in what was undeniably a weak and pathetic display of power.

"That was it? Try again," he insisted, and her shoulders slouched forward. All she wanted to do was go to bed.

"_Fus,_" she repeated, in something that was much more of a loud, irritated groan than anything else.

"Come now, Dragonborn. That won't do. Again."

"_Fus._"

"Again, please."

Her hands formed tiny little balls at her side, fingernails angrily digging into the palms of her hands. "I'm tired," she finally snapped, raising her hands to wring them in exasperation. "I'm hungry, I want to sleep, I don't want to stand here fucking shouting at you all damn night."

As Arngeir's eyes widened after her little outburst, Brynjolf stepped forward, placing one hand on her shoulder, hoping to calm her down. "Just one more time, that's all. Give it your all."

She sighed, hoping it would just be one more time. Before either of them could speak again, she inhaled deeply, letting out the strongest, most forceful Shout she had ever managed. _"FUS!"_

Arngeir staggered backwards, and once he had righted himself, he looked up at her with a pleased smile. "Well done, Dragonborn. So, it truly is you. We can discuss this more tomorrow, once the others have awakened, and we can begin your training as Dragonborn. If you'll follow me, I can take you to your room."

Indis hoisted her large pack over her shoulder, and she and Brynjolf trudged after the Greybeard, who gave one backwards glance at her. She was going to be an interesting one.

* * *

Teldryn had planned on leaving immediately the morning after he had learned of his and Indis' nasty fight, but when both Israna and Casimir fell ill, his trip to find Indis was delayed by a few days. Instead, he watched after them, and once their fevers broke, he made arrangements to leave.

"Ah, there's my little troublemaker," he said, sitting down on the edge of the small bed. "Will you be good while I'm gone?" he asked, smoothing down Israna's hair before tucking in the blankets around her a little tighter. "Will you behave for your uncle while I'm away?"

She flashed him a wicked little grin, showing him all of her tiny, but surprisingly sharp, teeth. "No."

"Of course not," he sighed, leaning over to give her a kiss on her forehead. Unlike her brother, she took great joy in being belligerent. He stood, making his way out to find Casimir, who he found sitting on the ground in the middle of the hallway, tiny, blocky toys strewn all about him.

He knelt down, ruffling the small boy's hair. "I'm leaving now. Behave yourself, you hear? Oh, and don't be afraid to tell on your sister if she bites you again. I've told your uncle to take care of it. Understand?"

Casimir nodded, before quickly tossing his toys to the side. He gave his father a hug, which Teldryn gladly returned. "Bye Papa."

"Love you both," he grumbled in his low, hoarse rasp. It was just before the break of dawn, and if he left now, he could get far provided he made good time. He stood up, stretching his limbs before setting off towards the entrance of Riftweald. He had said all of his goodbyes, it was time to leave.

He passed by Vex and Arwyn, two of Indis' associates from the Guild, who were flipping through every single book on a nearby shelf, searching for anything Mercer Frey might have left behind. Just as he walked by, Vex's foot quickly shot out, and he tumbled forward, landing hard on the palms of his hands.

"Oops," Vex hissed, eyes flashing at him. Her dark-haired companion gave a small snort, and she leaned over to whisper something in the blonde's ear before laughing again. They stopped their quiet gossip session to scowl at him once more.

Rising, Teldryn flashed them one fierce glare before continuing on his way. Either Erandur or Ralof had told Brynjolf about his and Indis' fight, apparently sparing none of the juicy details, and the news had spread like wildfire to her thieving companions. Having an entire Guild of thieves angry with him gave him another reason to get out of Riften. Slinging his pack over one shoulder, he stepped out into the bleary morning light of the Rift, ready to begin his journey to High Hrothgar.

* * *

Indis tugged the simple, linen clothes that Arngeir had left with her down over her head, rolling up the sleeves and the hem of the pants before stepping out of the small washroom. They were soft and comfortable, but they were very obviously made for someone much larger than she was. She twisted her damp hair up into a messy bun as she softly padded down the hallway towards the room Arngeir had directed them towards. Once inside, she flopped down on the massive bed next to Brynjolf, letting out a long, satisfied groan.

"This feels amazing," she sighed, rolling over to stare up at the arched stone ceiling. "I'm absolutely exhausted, and this bed feels wonderful."

She paused, shifting so that she had propped herself up on her elbow, turning so that she could watch him intently. He was leaning against the fluffy pile of pillows, thumbing through a worn volume he had located in the small end table next to the bed, the golden light from the nearby candles setting his fiery hair aglow. After watching him for a few seconds, curiosity quickly overtook her desire to sleep.

"How many women have you been with?" she asked, startling him with the abrupt question. He snapped the book shut quickly, and she was surprised to see a slight blush creeping up through his neck, onto his face.

"I beg your pardon?" he replied, his voice hoarse. He reached over to the nearby tankard resting on the dresser, gulping down the water within.

"You know, how many women have you been with. Or men," she added, sitting up and crossing her legs. "I'm just curious. The rumor in the Cistern is that it's around forty."

He coughed and sputtered, raising a hand to cover his mouth. "Forty?" he asked incredulously, staring at her with confusion.

Indis shrugged. "Sapphire and I thought that seemed too high. Maybe half of that, so…twenty?"

Brynjolf gave a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "Nowhere near that, lass."

"Ten?"

"No."

"Will you just tell me?"

"Fine," he sighed, running a large hand down over his face. "Two."

"Two?" she replied, mouth agape. "Truly?"

"Truly."

"That's surprising," she added, propping up her chin on one fist as she mulled over the information.

He repositioned himself so that he was facing her, a heavy crease forming in his brow. "Why is it so surprising?"

"I don't know," she trailed off, looking down at the blankets below, reaching down to trace circles in the thick furs with one lazy finger. "Women love you. You're so charming. I just, I don't know. I thought it would have been _a lot_ more than two, that's for sure. Really, two? That's it?"

"It's something I take seriously," he admitted. "Any woman I become intimate with, I want it to be meaningful. There just haven't been too many women that I've gotten close enough to."

"Who was the first one? I already know the second was Tonilia."

His eyebrows rose in surprise, and his eyes widened. "Wait, what? How did you know about Tonilia?"

"Oh, come on Bryn," she laughed, rolling her eyes. The fact that Brynjolf and Tonilia had been intimately involved was something that everyone feigned blissful ignorance in regards to. "Everyone knows. Except for Vekel, that is. You two aren't nearly as clever at hiding it as you think you were. You know, I remember correctly, I think Thrynn and Vipir even watched you two once and said that—"

"Well, that's enough of that," Brynjolf interjected, abruptly cutting her off. He hastily lay down and rolled over so that he was facing away from her.

She sighed, nudging his shoulder gently. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, or make it sound like I was judging you. Because I wasn't," she hastily stressed, wringing her hands for emphasis.

He flipped over onto his back, stretching his arms behind his head as he looked up at her. "I'm not upset, believe me. If anything, I just," he stopped abruptly, looking slightly sheepish. She waited patiently for him to go on, and after a long sigh, he did. "I just feel a tad bit intimidated by you, that's all. You're so," he paused again, casting his eyes upwards as he searched for the right word. "Experienced."

"Is that a polite way of calling me a whore?" she snapped, eyes flashing with indignation. "Because I'm not, you know, and I don't care what anyone else has to say on the matter."

"No, no!" he insisted, holding up his hands defensively. "I'm not, honestly. You just probably want a man who knows a lot more about pleasing a woman than I do, and that's understandable."

Indis cocked one eyebrow upwards, inspecting him curiously, suddenly feeling guilty for being so accusatory. _He's not a bad man, not at all_, she thought to herself, watching as he silently stared upwards at the ceiling. _He's kind, handsome, and for some reason, despite how awful you are, he cares about you. Gods only know why._ "You know, those things are learned," she replied softly, surprising him with the low, husky tone her voice had suddenly taken on. She scooted over so that she was leaning over him ever so slightly, leaning down to whisper one final thing. "And I would be more than happy to teach."

He was caught off guard when she kissed him, one of her small hands reaching up to tilt his face towards hers. Her lips moved gently against his, his coarse red stubble grinding against her chin. She suddenly pulled away, laughing. "You should shave," she said, running the pad of one thumb over the tiny, prickling hairs.

Brynjolf ran a hand over his jaw. "Is it something I need to take care of right now?"

She shook her head. "It can wait," she said, lips grazing his cheek. "There are much, much more important things to do right now."

"Such as?"

Indis kissed him again, with more urgency and need than the previous time. He gladly returned it, freeing the hand that had been wrapped around the nape of her neck so that he could pull her on top of him. She pulled away, muttering soft curses as she fumbled with the loose, floppy sleeves of her too-large garments.

"Wait," he said, placing his hands on her forearm, stopping her. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," she breathed, frantically nodding, hoping that he didn't try to stop or delay any more, otherwise, she might change her mind. Hopefully, this would help get her mind off of Teldryn. "Do you not want to?"

"No, I do," he replied quickly, allowing her to reach down and set to work undoing his trousers. He lifted his hips so that she could pull them off along with his smalls, and after yanking them off, she tossed them aside, pausing as she leaned back to admire. He was much larger than anyone else she had been with, and when her cheeks flushed a bright, warm red, it was certainly not a blush of shame.

She gave a tiny shake of her head, jerking herself out of the stupor that she had very quickly fallen into. "My turn," she said throatily, reaching down towards the hem of her thin tunic, but Brynjolf stopped her, staying her hands.

"Allow me," he insisted, and she happily obliged, raising her arms over her head. He pulled off her top in one fluid motion, flinging it aside before reaching up, cupping each of her breasts with his large hands.

"I'm sorry they're not larger," she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her tiny, freckled breasts. They had completely disappeared underneath his large, broad hands, and she soon found herself thinking about Serana's, and just how large and absolutely perfect they were in comparison to hers.

"Shush, they're perfect," he groaned, gently guiding her so that she was on her back. Indis pulled her legs up so that she could remove the rest of her clothing, and once she had done so, Brynjolf wasted no time in positioning himself above her. He initiated the searing kiss that followed, pressing himself so that he was flush against her, and her hand grasping his arm tightened its grip, her nails digging deep into the flesh below. She arched her back as soon as his lips left her mouth, trailing downwards to her chest, desperately attempting to bring her hips to meet his, sighing with satisfaction when his erection pressed against her thigh. He was ready to guide himself into her when the words that spilled from her lips caused him to freeze.

"Gods, Tel," she moaned, biting at the tip of one of her own fingers.

"What did you say?" he asked, voice sharp, hoping that he had misheard her.

Her eyes flew open and widened, and she unintentionally told him the answer. "I said…well, I was going to say," she faltered, tone unconvincing. "I was going to say, tell…tell me what you want."

He sighed, slowly climbing off, swallowing the lump in his throat, trying his damnedest to avoid looking at her. She had never been a very convincing liar, but it wasn't the lie that bothered him so much. It was the fact that _he_ was still the one she was thinking of, even after everything he had said. "Actually, I changed my mind," he said tersely, yanking blankets around his body in a tight, protective cocoon, leaving a wide space between them. "I'm tired. We should just go to sleep."

_One step forward, two steps back._

* * *

_A/N: Heh. HEH._

_I'm sorry to disappoint you if you thought Brynjolf smut was coming. Eventually!_

_Sorry about the lack of updates, and I'm sorry about the short chapter. All of this was initially going to be combined with the next one, but it would have made it majorly long, so I decided to split it up. Gotta give ample attention to her making the Greybeards feel uncomfortable, right? Tomorrow I'll be doing work on Rising Like Dust before anything else (seriously, if you haven't checked it out, go!), and then more of this, and An Uncommon Reaction. Also, a bunch of you have posted new chapters, gah! I'm going to be working on catching up on those as well._

_I haven't been writing too much lately not only because I've been sick, but it's mainly because I'm feeling majorly uninspired and down on my writing. So, if you enjoy it, please, let me know. Knowing that you enjoy what I write always motivates me to get the next chapter up and running._


	26. The Lightning Strike

Indis stretched her arms back behind her head, letting out a long, deep yawn. She sat up slowly, groggily rubbing at her eyes as she peered around the small room. The other side of the bed was empty with the sheets arranged neatly over the barren space, and Brynjolf was nowhere to be found.

_Can't blame him_, she sullenly mused as she climbed out of bed, wincing as her feet made contact with the icy stone floor below. She slowly made her way over to the chair that her pack was resting on, fumbling around in it for a few seconds, letting out a sigh as her fingers relinquished their grip. She was all out of skooma. Tearing open one of the pockets on the front of her pack, her hand emerged with a tiny vial of ultra-refined, powdered moon sugar and a worn slip of paper. It was stronger than the thick, blocky crystals that one could use to get a quick fix, and as a result, it was a good deal more expensive.

Crossing her legs as settled down in a chair at the empty table, she twisted the top off the vial, gently shaking the fine powder out into a pair of thin, neat lines. Rolling up the paper into a small, thin tube, she gave one final glance towards the door before placing a finger over her right nostril. Indis lowered her head, using her makeshift pipe to create a short path between her free nostril and the fine powder below, inhaling as hard as she could, the thin white line vanishing as the paper tube moved across the table. Covering the other nostril, she repeated the process until the table was clear. Tossing her head back, she gave one last hard sniff, letting out a long, satisfied exhale as she closed her eyes and slouched down in the chair, relaxing as the effects slowly invaded her body. Suddenly, a sharp, rapping knock at the door pulled her out of her pleasant, hazy, stupor.

Indis stood, using her sleeve to wipe away the light dusting of powder of the tip of her nose that she saw when she glanced in the nearby mirror. Sweeping across the room, she yanked the door open, surprised to see Brynjolf on the other side.

"Good, you're up," he said plainly, leaning against the frame of the door. He didn't look particularly happy to see her, but at the same time, he didn't seem too _unhappy_ either. "They're all waiting to meet you. They seem pretty excited. I think," he added, scratching at the side of his neck. "That Arngeir fellow is the only one who does any talking."

"I'll be out soon," she replied, gesturing to the loose, linen nightclothes that she was still wearing. She took a closer look at him, and he didn't appear to be angry, but it was always difficult to tell with him. He was always so good-natured, friendly, and easygoing, and she had rarely seen him upset. She felt absolutely wretched about what happened the previous night, but if she was being completely honest with herself, she was relieved that her attempts to bed him had grinded to an awkward halt. He had been a stand-in for Teldryn, something to take her mind off the Dunmer man, and nothing more. "Brynjolf, wait," she added, frantically grabbing at his arm. Indis wanted to apologize, but the words quickly died on her lips. "Thank you for coming to get me."

"No problem, lass. You'd best hurry."

She gave a quick shrug. "I need to get dressed," she said, shutting the door. After a few minutes she emerged, and after he gave her a curt little nod, she set off down the hallway towards the chamber they had initially met Arngeir in. She found him standing in a small group, with several other men, who she assumed comprised the rest of the Greybeards.

Indis coughed to get their attention. "I'm here now," she said, unable to sound more unenthusiastic if she tried. "What time is it?"

"Well past noon, Dragonborn," Arngeir replied, turning to face her, taking in her surly, bored expression. "There is much to be done before the sun sets."

"Like what?" she asked, her brow furrowing. She had hoped that after her display the previous night, they wouldn't require anything else of her. Indis wanted nothing more than this Dragonborn business to be over with. "You didn't say anything last night about other things that needed to be done," she continued irritably, folding her arms over her chest. _Just stay calm, hopefully this won't take too long._

"There is another word of power to teach you, one to follow _Fus_ in the Unrelenting Force Shout," Arngeir replied, motioning for her to come forward. "After that is done, then there is another Shout that we will teach you."

Inwardly groaning, she stepped forward to the center of the chamber. "There are two more words to the Shout, right?" she asked, recalling what Odahviing had told her.

Arngeir turned his attention to her, looking surprised, yet pleased. "Yes, there are. Very good, Dragonborn. It seems that you did some studying before you came here. As you learn each new word of power…"

"The Shouts will get stronger," she finished, and she was relieved to see him smile.

Now, come here," he gestured, pointing to another robed man. "This is Master Einarth. He will lend you his understanding of the second word, _Ro._ Are you ready to continue, Dragonborn?"

_My name isn't Dragonborn, it's Indis_, she silently grumbled to herself, but she nodded. "I'm ready. What do these words mean in the dragon tongue?"

"_Fus _means force, and _Ro_ means balance," he responded, looking pleased with all of the questions she had. "Ah, Master Einarth. Let him teach you the second word."

Master Einarth tilted his head downwards after giving her a soft, kind smile, he breathed out the word of power, faint, glowing letters forming on the ground below him. Indis stepped forward with great trepidation, kneeling down by it, and as she got closer, she was surprised to find that she understood the word on the floor, the one that he had simply breathed out, the same as she had the ones on the word wall. _I wonder how they learned to do that. Lots of training, I suppose._

The word vanished as quickly as it had appeared and she stood, ready to receive her next set of instructions. "Well done, you truly do have the gift," Arngeir mused, tapping his chin with the tip of one contemplative finger. "However, you still have a ways to go, Dragonborn. Your _Thu'um _will become more powerful, more refined through constant practice. Master Einarth will tap into his understanding of _Ro_, and will share it with you. Are you ready to practice?"

After yet another nod, she waited patiently for Master Einarth to complete his task, and she let out a tiny astonished gasp when blurry, golden streams of light emerged from the Greybeard's body, and they swirled around hers, whipping and whistling before becoming one with her form. It was the same as when she absorbed a dragon soul, yet it was softer, gentler, and not as harsh.

"Good," Arngeir continued, giving a slight nod. "I believe it is time for you to demonstrate your prowess, Dragonborn. Targets will appear, and you will use the Unrelenting Force Shout to strike them. Use both _Fus_ and _Ro._"

One of the Greybeards stepped forward, taking a deep breath before he used a Shout that Indis wasn't familiar with, the powerful words creating a large, swirling blue orb of light. Once the whirling tendrils had faded away, what appeared to be a bright, spectral Greybeard was left standing in the center of the chamber.

"_FUS RO!_" she shouted, using all of her might, not wanting a repeat of last night's failure. A massive wave of force rolled forth from her lips, slamming into the ghostly figure in front of her. The specter crumpled to the floor, vanishing. Luckily, after only two more times of repeating the process, they seemed to be pleased with her efforts.

"Very good," Arngeir said, dipping his head. "There is yet another Shout for you to learn, Dragonborn. If you'll follow me out into the courtyard, we can continue the lesson out there. There is simply not enough room in here," he continued, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

Indis obliged, slowly trailing behind the small group of monks. Master Einarth held the door open for her, and as soon as she stepped out into the freezing, blistering winds outside, she found herself wishing for Teldryn's warmth, amongst other things.

"Why does the Shout have to be taught out here?" she asked, teeth chattering as she rubbed her hands together. "I swear to the Eight, my tits are going to freeze off if we stay out here too much longer."

The Greybeards simply blinked at her finishing comment, eyes widening ever so slightly. Master Arngeir simply jerked his head towards the large, snow-dusted space in the courtyard, and she tromped behind him through the thick snowfall. "Master Borri will teach you _Wuld_, the first word of the Whirlwind Sprint."

The process was the same as it was with _Ro_, and once she had fully absorbed the knowledge, Indis turned towards Arngeir once more, rubbing at the tip of her numb nose. "What happens now? I'm cold. I want to go back inside," she droned, the whipping winds around them carrying her whining voice throughout the courtyard.

He gave her a tiny, weary smile. "More practice. Follow Master Borri, and repeat as he does."

Master Borri trudged through the snow, stopping between two crumbling stone pillars. There was the loud click of a lever being pulled, and the metal gates opposite the Greybeard swung open, and after a loud, powerful _Wuld_, he darted through them, quicker than lightning.

"You will do the same," Arngeir instructed, guiding her to the gap between the pillars. "Once the lever is pulled, use the first word of power for the Whirlwind Shout."

He stepped away, backing up until he had joined his fellow monks, who were all watching Indis with bated breath. She readied herself, taking a stance that readied her for running, inhaling deeply. _Simple enough, just go right through the gate. No big deal._ The lever was pulled and the gates opened once more.

"_Wuld!_" she shouted, her voice loud and strong, full of confidence. However, a fraction of a second after she had unleashed the word of power, her body immediately went into a panic, undone and put off by the high speed. Her legs instinctively jerked towards her right, sending her off of the wide, straight path that went through the gates, and crashing into the pillars that held them up. She slammed into the stone, stunned and breathless as the world around her faded to an inky black.

* * *

"Hey, lass. Are you awake now?"

Indis blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dim, golden light thrown off by the candles in the small bedroom she was staying in. Her head throbbed, pounded, and she reached up to gingerly touch her face. Once she had gingerly prodded her face, she let out a low hiss of pain. "What happened? I feel terrible."

Brynjolf let out an awkward cough. "Well, apparently they taught you some kind of Shout to make you run fast."

She groaned, the memory rushing back over her. "All I remember is doing the Shout, and then…Oh, by the Eight. This is fucking embarrassing."

"No, no," he insisted, sitting down on the edge of the bed, wringing his hands. "Master Arngeir said something like that could happen, that people aren't used to travelling at such high speeds, so you could panic, purely by instinct. He said that with more practice, preferably in a wide, open space, you'll get used to it, and you'll be able to better control it. Luckily, they knew plenty of restoration magic. Your face will be fine."

Indis leaned back, resting her head on the fluffy pillow once more. Arngeir _had_ said that it took time and practice to fully master the _Thu'um_, and that being Dragonborn only gave her the capacity to learn them quickly, but not necessarily to execute them properly. "I suppose," she mumbled, giving an indifferent shrug. They had only been at High Hrothgar for about a day, and she was ready to be done. After a few seconds of silence, she let out a long, melodramatic sigh. "I'm ready to go home," she said, absentmindedly fiddling with the necklace she was wearing.

"Nice necklace that you've got there," he said, gesturing to the piece of jewelry. It appeared to be a silver chain, with various different colors of bright yarn clumsily wrapped around it, with beads placed at awkward intervals. He hadn't mentioned it the previous night, but it had piqued his curiosity. Her noble background had given her a more discerning taste when it came to clothes or jewelry, so he was surprised to see her wearing something very, very different.

"Oh, do you like it?" she asked, face lighting up as she looked down at it fondly, gently twisting it in between her fingers. "Izzy and Cas made it for me. I think they had Ralof help them enchant it. They said it would help keep me safe."

"You miss them."

"I do," she replied, voice cracking with a tiny sob. She reached up, wiping away the tears that had begun to collect at the corners of her eyes. "For years, I saw them every day, all day, and it's just been really difficult to be away from them. I hope this is all over soon," she added with a sigh, letting out a small sniffle. "You know, they've both gotten really interested in the Dwemer, so I promised I'd take them to Markarth once I got back. Solitude, too."

Brynjolf stayed silent for a few seconds, quietly twisting his hands together. "You and Teldryn should make up."

She looked up at him with surprise. "Really? Even after everything he said?"

The redhead nodded. "Listen, I don't think he meant those things. Actually, let me rephrase that. I _know_ he didn't mean those things. He loves you, and I'm sure that disgusting drink, combined with what is likely some difficulty coming to terms with this arrangement, made him say all of that."

She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest, silently mulling over what he said. "I don't know, it sounded like he meant it."

The Nord shook his head, reaching out to take one of her hands. "He didn't, trust me. As soon as we're done here, we'll head back to Riften. You and Teldryn can have your talk, hopefully you'll make up, and you can take Izzy, Cas, and Aventus to all of those places you told them you would. I can watch over the Guild while you're gone. How does that sound?"

"Thank you, Brynjolf," she replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll think about it."

"Good," he responded, a tiny smile ghosting across his lips. "You should probably get some rest," he continued, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead before he exited the room abruptly, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

* * *

"Dragonborn."

Indis looked up from the tome that she had been poring over in the Greybeards' small library, surprised to see Arngeir approaching her with a small stack of books, biting back what had become a frequent urge to tell him, and everyone else, that her name wasn't Dragonborn. She shut the book that had occupied her for the past hour, relieved to finally have an excuse to be done with it. Much of it was in the dragon language, or _Dovahzul_ as Arngeir politely informed her, and she had gotten little out of it. She waited until he settled in the chair next to her to speak. "What are these?" she asked, prodding the binding of one.

"I thought these might be useful to you, Dragonborn. There is one to help with learning the dragon tongue, and the other has quite a few useful details on the various types of dragons you may encounter."

She opened the volume on the dragons, absentmindedly flipping through the dusty pages, her brow furrowing. "There are different kinds of dragons?" she asked, stopping to inspect a beautifully detailed drawing of a white dragon with fearsome spikes. It made sense, and she knew it. The dragons that stuck out in her mind all looked quite different from each other.

"Oh, yes. I believe that will be of help to you."

"Well, thank you," she replied, snapping the book shut. She would look at it later. If she was to be completely honest with herself, a few days holed up in a quiet, peaceful monastery had been absolutely wonderful. She wasn't exactly looking forward to getting back to work hunting dragons, searching for Mercer Frey, and whatever else happened to pull her away from Riften and her family. "Why are you the only one who speaks?" she finally asked. It was a question that had been plaguing her since their arrival.

"The Voices of the others are far too powerful, and they could unleash destruction with a mere word. Their _Thu'um_ could destroy you."

"Oh," she replied, eyes widening. "This is…this is from the training? Are you saying that if I keep training and my _Thu'um_ gets even stronger, I could…I could end up like that, unable to even speak because I might kill someone?"

Arngeir nodded. "It is a possibility, yes."

Propping her chin up on a balled-up fist, Indis let out a long, dramatic sigh, deciding that it was time to change the subject. She didn't really want to think about killing people or causing an avalanche with a soft whisper. "What am I supposed to be doing here?" she asked, waving her hand in the air in a vague gesture. "Dragons come back, I find out that I'm Dragonborn, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to be doing."

Arngeir gave her a kind smile. "My guess is as good as yours, Dragonborn, but it would seem that the gods wanted you here for a reason."

"A reason," she snorted. _Damn Arkay, and his vagueness._ "What reason would that be?"

He shrugged, dusting off one of the books before pulling the cup of tea he had brought towards him. "I do not know, but I suspect you will find out in time."

Instead of grabbing the elderly man by the shoulders and shaking him about like a little ragdoll while screaming at him in frustration, she took a deep breath. "I suppose. Why do the Greybeards study the Voice?" she asked, hoping she could find some hint of her destiny, of her fate, in his response.

"We use the _Thu'um_ to worship and glorify the Divines, and the power of the Voice is a means of attaining enlightenment. It is used for meditative, spiritual purposes, not for violence. That was the Way that our founder, Jurgen Windcaller envisioned. There are, however, a few times when violent use of the Voice is overlooked. The appearance of a Dragonborn is such a time," he said, peering at her intently.

"Who is Jurgen Windcaller?"

"He founded our order during the First Era, and it is his beliefs and teachings that we follow."

Her head tilted to the side as she contemplated his words. "Oh. Wait; didn't Ulfric Stormcloak use the Voice to murder the High King? That doesn't sound like something that's very Windcaller-y. To me, at least."

At the mention of the Jarl of Windhelm, Arngeir's lips pursed in a tight, thin line. "There are some who stray from the path of the Voice, and abandon the Way."

"Oh," she replied. She opened her mouth to speak, closing it when a thought suddenly occurred to her, and she found herself wondering if he could possibly tell her what Shout it was that Odahviing used on her. "I have a question."

"Yes?"

"There's a Shout that I wanted to learn, and I thought perhaps you would know it. It's a Shout that makes you…" she trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

"Yes?" Arngeir asked, raising a steaming cup of tea to his lips, eyebrows quirking up at her in the process.

After a few more seconds of mentally fumbling about for a more delicate way of phrasing things, she decided to take the most direct approach. "Orgasm. It makes you have an absolutely fantastic, intense orgasm."

The Greybeard coughed and sputtered, reaching up to wipe away the tea that had landed on his chin. When he finally worked up the nerve to make eye contact with her, the slightest uncomfortable flush had crept into his cheeks. "I-I beg your pardon?"

"An or-gas-m," she said, leaning in a little closer, drawing out each syllable in the word that was causing him such great discomfort. "It's a Shout that makes you orgasm. Climax. Get off. Whatever you want to call it. Do you know it?"

He _did_ know of the Shout she was inquiring about, but it wasn't one that he had ever learned. He had only read about it and had only recalled it when she posed the question to him. It took a bit longer than he would have liked to compose himself once more, but he finally spoke, turning away from her. "That…that is not something we will teach you, Dragonborn. The Voice is used for worship of the Divines, as I mentioned previously."

A deep crease formed in her brow as she silently mulled over his response, staring down at the table, lazily tracing the grain of the wood with the tip of one finger. "But, Dibella is a Divine. Couldn't it be considered worship in her name?"

He awkwardly cleared his throat. "I suppose," he responded curtly, hoping she would end their conversation. "You'd best continue reading what you can, since you will not be able to take many of these books with you when you—"

"Have you ever had an orgasm?" she asked, leaving him stunned by the question. "I'm just curious, that's all. They're absolutely wonderful, and this Shout, oh by the—"

"Well," he interjected, nearly knocking his chair as he rapidly stood, giving a short, quick bow once he had risen. "I'm afraid I must take my leave, there's much to be done."

Indis watched him leave, practically sprinting towards the set of double doors that led back out into the monastery. Once he was gone, she turned back to the books stacked in front of her, giving a shrug. "Must've been something I said."

* * *

Indis hoisted her large pack onto her back, tugging on the straps slightly until it was comfortable. She reached up to make sure that her Dwemer goggles were safely nestled away on top of her head before turning to Brynjolf with a smile. "Come on, let's go out there and say our goodbyes."

After three days at High Hrothgar, she had decided that it was time for them to head back to Riften. Thoughts of seeing her family, spending time with her children, and settling back into the rhythm of the Guild occupied her thoughts the previous night, and she had tossed and turned from excitement, unable to sleep. She was ready to put this Dragonborn business behind her and head home.

"Arngeir," she called out as she approached the kneeling Greybeard. She stopped in front of him, waiting until he had looked up. "I just wanted to thank you for your hospitality. We're leaving now to head back to Riften."

"Before you go, Dragonborn, there is one last thing we must discuss," he said, rising to his feet. "There is one final trial for you to pass."

The smile quickly faded from her face. "What? I thought you said we were finished?"

"Not quite. All we ask is for you to retrieve the horn of Jurgen Windcaller from his tomb in Ustengrav. Upon your return, we will teach you the final word of the Unrelenting Force Shout."

_All we ask. All we ask. All we ask._ She swallowed the lump in her throat, and opened her mouth to speak, but whatever reply had been on its way out was quickly drowned out in a loud, choking sob. Arngeir looked taken aback, surprised by her reaction.

"All you fucking ask? All you fucking ask is for me to go to some fucking tomb, gods knows where, to get some stupid fucking horn?" she screamed, her voice cracking. Before Arngeir could interject, she continued. "I-I-I don't want to go," she blubbered loudly, sobs echoing throughout the stone chamber. The loud noise attracted the attention of several of the other monks, and hooded heads furtively peeked out from around the corners to see what the ruckus was. "I want to go home, I want to see my family, I-I don't want to do this."

With that, she quickly spun on her heel and darted towards the door, with tears blurring her eyes. She flung it open angrily, slamming it behind her, leaving a group of shocked men behind her.

"I'll, uh, I'll see what I can do," Brynjolf sighed, giving Arngeir a tiny nod before he set off after her.

* * *

"Fine, I'll go," Indis huffed, unwrapping Horse's reins from the post outside Ivarstead's tiny inn before turning back to Brynjolf. "But I'm going alone."

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. "No. I'll go with you."

"No, you're not," she replied, strapping her pack onto the animal's side. "I need you back in Riften to look after the Guild; Divines know those morons can't be left unsupervised too long."

"But I think that—"

"I'm ordering you, as your Guildmaster, to go back. I'll send a courier to when I make it to Falkreath. Would you mind terribly telling everyone that I'll be back as soon as I'm able?" she said, grabbing the saddle's pommel.

"I don't think you should go alone."

"Enough," she snapped, whipping around to face him. When she saw his crestfallen, hurt expression, she let out a sigh. "Bryn, I'm sorry. I'm just…I'm just not exactly thrilled about having to go get this damn horn, that's all. Be safe when you're traveling back to Riften."

"Fine, you win. You can go alone. Oh, and I will," he said, giving her a small smile. "You be safe, too. I've heard all kinds of things about Falkreath. I'll be sure to talk to Teldryn."

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand and laughed. "It'll be fine. Wolves, trolls, maybe a bear…I'm sure that's all I'll have to worry about on my way there."

He turned to leave, but at the last second, her hand shot out and she grabbed his sleeve, dragging him back towards her. Before he could protest, she wrapped her free hand around his neck, and pulled his lips down to meet hers. "Thank you Bryn," she said, stepping back. "You're pretty wonderful, you know that?"

* * *

Brynjolf squinted at the figure approaching him, tugged his horse's reins, signaling for the animal to stop. When he realized who it was, he couldn't help but let out a sigh that was an odd mixture of irritation and relief.

"Teldryn," he said, looking down at the Dunmer man who had just come to a stop in front of his horse, watching him sullenly. "I didn't expect to run into you out here."

"I didn't expect to see you out here either," Teldryn replied, crossing his arms. "At least not without Indis, that is. Where is she?"

Brynjolf shifted awkwardly in his saddle, ignoring the question. "What are you doing out here? I thought you'd be back in Riften."

"Don't change the subject," Teldryn snapped. "I came out here to find her and apologize, if you must know. Now, where is she?"

"She headed to Falkreath. We parted ways in Ivarstead."

"You let her run off alone?"

"She insisted that…" the Nord replied, realizing that he had made a huge mistake letting her make the journey alone. "Ah, fuck. That was a bad idea."

Teldryn let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes, shaking his head as he maintained eye contact with Brynjolf. "Oh, you think?" he drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Bad idea is an understatement. Trouble seems to miraculously always find her, despite every attempt to keep it at bay. We'd best go find her."

"Of course," Brynjolf sighed, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Do you have a horse? We'd be able to travel faster."

Teldryn shook his head. "I've been traveling on foot."

Brynjolf awkwardly cleared his throat, steeling himself for what was going to most definitely be a hostile reaction. "I suppose…I suppose that we could share, and you could ride behind me."

Teldryn scowled, the wrinkling of his nose and the pursing of his lips silently expressing his disdain for the idea. "Fine. You're right. We'll travel faster on a horse," the Dunmer reluctantly admitted, clambering onto the back of the horse, taking care to not touch Brynjolf too much. With a rueful sigh, he placed his hands on Brynjolf's shoulders to steady himself. "Don't _ever_ tell anyone about this."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

"Stupid fucking horse," Indis muttered, jerking on the reins to guide Horse back onto the main road. Her steed had taken to wandering off to attempt to munch on the snowberry bushes that dotted the cobbled path. Once Horse was set back on the road, she let her thoughts wander.

With a sigh, she mentally ran over the list of everything she had to do. _Talk to Astrid about getting the Brotherhood's help with finding Mercer. Stop at Lakeview to make sure the goddamn place hasn't burned to the ground. Head to Whiterun and apologize to Balgruuf for never writing to let him know that I was still alive. Hire some mercenary and head to that stupid fucking tomb to get that stupid fucking horn, and then head back to stupid fucking High Hrothgar._

All of a sudden, Horse came to a dead halt, letting out a nervous whinny as he remained frozen, eyes focused on something in the distance. It was past nightfall, but she had elected to keep traveling well past sundown. The bright, glowing full moons above lit her way without any issue, and in the pale, bright moonlight, she could see a figure ahead.

Indis dismounted Horse, pulling her bow off her back as she cautiously approached. She squinted, trying to make out what it was. At first glance, it appeared to be a troll that was relentlessly tearing into the carcass of the deer below, but there was something off about it. The shape of the body wasn't right, and the movements didn't quite match. She nocked an arrow, pulling the bowstring back as she took aim. Even though she wasn't certain exactly what was in front of her, it wasn't hard to figure out that it likely wasn't the friendliest creature. Taking a deep breath, she fired.

As soon as the arrow made contact with the beast's flesh, the creature let out a long, pained, bloodcurdling howl that sound all too much like the cry of a wolf. It turned away from the remains it had been devouring, eyes focused on her. Letting out one more howl, it barreled towards her.

She luckily had another arrow ready and she fired, missing the second time in her frantic attempt to shoot her bow the second time. Tossing the bow aside, she unsheathed her swords, waiting for the animal to attack. It moved much faster than any troll, and with one mighty swing of its arm, its razor-sharp claws, it slash through the leather of her Guildmaster's armor, slicing through the skin below. Hissing with pain, she lunged forward, her blade piercing through the animal's flesh. By this time, Horse had rushed forward to join the fray, and was kicking its hooves at their foe in a wild frenzy. For several minutes, she fought wildly, blindly, growing more tired with each blow. Her sword swings and thrusts were becoming slower, sloppier, and she struggled to catch her breath as the creature circled around her, watching as she grew wearier.

She took one deep, ragged breath, slashing away at the animal again, clutching at her stomach as she collapsed to the ground. She hadn't wanted to give up fighting, but her body seemed to on a completely different page. There was another swipe of sharp claws at her backside, then another. Indis rolled over, fumbling for her sword. As the animal leaned down, ready to finish her off, she used every last bit of energy to thrust Chillrend through its chest. She closed her eyes, praying that it was dead. After several long, seconds of silence, she opened her eyes.

The beast, whatever it had been, was gone. Instead, hovering above her was what appeared to be a man with the head of a stag, casually leaning against a spear. "You fight well, and you will make an excellent champion. I'm sure we'll see each other again quite soon," the man said, looking down at her with an intense, unsettling gaze. "The legendary dragon slayer, the ultimate huntress…and you're _mine_ now. You're welcome for the gift, Dragonborn. Good hunting," he continued, his smooth voice strangely calming. The man-deer creature chuckled, and then suddenly vanished.

"What in the ever loving fuck?" she gasped aloud, flecks of blood painting her lips as she spoke, her breath curling out in a thick, crystalline cloud. It was the blood loss. She was delirious. That had to be it.

Horse stomped over to her, gently shaking his head as he stared down at her, as though he didn't quite understand why she wasn't getting up. She turned her attention to the heavens above, watching the bright pinks and purple of the aurora dance around the stars in the sky. Tilting her head to the side, she realized the gravity of her situation when she saw the large amount of snow that had been stained crimson.

It seemed at that moment that this was how she would die; not with her loved ones nearby, not slaying a dragon or even a vampire, or during some glorious heist for the Guild. She would die with hallucinations of a man with a stag's head, with a stupid, drooling horse staring down at her, while staring at the sky above, utterly alone.

The stars were beautiful that night.

* * *

_A/N: Next chapter, something smutty this way comes._

_Also, I am having some major, major trouble with An Uncommon Reaction. Like, I don't even know where to begin with working out my plot kinks and fixing everything. So, until that's resolved, I'm putting it on hiatus._

_Before I wrap this up, a huge thank you to all of those who have done fanart of Indis: tumblr users: Niuniente, snarkies, velvettodraws, ap0state, and buttsofjustice. ffnet users: SkyCrawlers123 and BrunetteAuthorette99. Go check it out on my tumblr page (it's linked on my profile) because it's all absolutely amazing and gorgeous._

_Night babies. I love all of you._


	27. Waking Up and Making Up

_**WARNING: Very NSFW.**_

* * *

It was probably the most half-assed healing spell ever cast in the history of Tamriel, but as the weak, golden light flowed over her body, Indis was thankful that Teldryn had insisted she at least learn a simple restoration spell. Letting out a ragged sigh, she looked up at the animal that had been an incredibly vigilant guardian throughout the night. "Thank you, Horse."

Horse simply blinked at her before letting out a snort, shaking his head before resuming his unwavering stare. Pushing off the frozen ground with her hands, she sat up, grunting with pain as she came to a sitting position.

"Gods damn this, mother fucking…fucking thing can go suck a troll's tit," she grumbled hoarsely, grabbing at Horse's saddle as she slowly pulled herself to her feet. Indis managed to throw herself over Horse, lying flat on her stomach on his back, legs dangling off one side, arms off the other. Unfortunately, she couldn't muster up the strength to pull her leg up over as well and right herself in the saddle. "This'll have to do," she muttered to herself as she grabbed the reins as best she could, briefly wondering how she would guide Horse in her current position. Reaching down with one blood-encrusted hand, she gave the animal a lazy slap on the rump.

It wasn't the most comfortable position, but as Horse slowly ambled down the road, she was happy that she wasn't lying in the snow on the freezing cold ground anymore. After the attack, she had somehow found enough strength to down a healing potion and cast a restoration spell before passing out. Remarkably, she had made it throughout the night, and had woken up to find her horse keeping an alert eye out for trouble.

They had been travelling for nearly an hour, and the sound of hooves quickly approaching piqued her interest. After pulling her head up to take a look, she let out a loud, hoarse laugh at what she saw. It was Teldryn and Brynjolf, on the back of a steed together, both staring at her. It had to be a dream. _Had _to. The cackling quickly turned to a cough, and she spit when she tasted blood in her mouth. _Stop that, blood. I need you to stay in me_, she thought, silently, fruitlessly reprimanding her bodily fluid before speaking.

"Look at you two," she said, giving a weary snort. "Riding that horse. Maybe I can be next thing you two ride together?" she added, contorting her face in something they both assumed was supposed to be a lusty wink.

"Let's get you down, you're injured," Teldryn said, dismounting the horse as quickly as he could. She was a ghastly white and her blood-encrusted armor was in shreds. He made to help her, but she slapped his hand away with a surprising strength.

"I am perfectly fine. I can take care of myself, you know," she said, giving him a ferocious glare.

He crossed his arms, resisting the urge to let out an obnoxiously loud sigh. "At least let me heal you."

"No."

"Please let me heal you."

"I already healed myself," she sniffed, coughing into her hand once again. She briefly glanced at the bright, fresh blood in her palm. "That's not good."

"You healed yourself? Well, you've done an utterly fantastic job," Teldryn drawled, rolling his eyes.

"Come on, lass. Just let us help you down," Brynjolf insisted, stopping by the Dunmer. "You need—"

She slid off of Horse, landing on the ground with a soft _thump_ before looking up at them with a snarl. "I need you both to fuck right off, thank you very much. I know what I need, and I can handle myself. I've got everything under control. Now, if one of you will help me back onto Horse, I'll be heading to Falkreath."

"You were going the wrong way," Teldryn said, the soft green light of a spell glimmering in the palm of his hand. "Just so you know. You were going back towards Ivarstead." Before she could respond, he cast the spell, the magicka swathing her in a soothing, calming spell. Her eyes widened and she attempted to protest, but quickly went slack-jawed and her eyes closed as she quickly drifted off to sleep.

"Come on," Teldryn said, gingerly picking her up. "We can head back to that shack we passed by on the way here."

* * *

Teldryn gently lifted the strand of Indis' hair, inspecting the thick piece of snow-white hair that was nestled within the sea of dark auburn. He briefly considered pulling out his dagger and slicing the piece away, knowing how upset she would be once she found it. He decided against it, unsure of how she would react to finding a huge piece of her hair chopped away. Letting the strand slip through his fingers, he turned back towards the Nord that he had been doing his best to ignore.

"What do you think it was?" Brynjolf asked, gesturing to the pile of shredded armor that was lying in the corner of the small shack. After Teldryn had used the calming spell, they had backtracked to what they soon found out was once an alchemist's hut. "Troll? Bear? Sabre cat?"

Teldryn shrugged, pressing his head to Indis' forehead, wishing that the Nord hadn't broken the silence. It had been awkward and uncomfortable, but he still preferred it to a conversation with the man. "No idea. I suppose she can tell us when she wakes up. She's got a fever, by the way. Do you have any potions?"

"No, I'm afraid not," the redhead sighed after rummaging through his pack. "Well, a few stamina potions, but that's it. I wouldn't risk using any of these, either," he continued, gesturing to the dusty bottles that lined the shelves of the cramped shack. "They're unlabeled, so there's no way of telling exactly what they are. Besides, Divines only know how old they are."

"Look through Indis' pack, then."

Brynjolf obliged to the demand with a sigh, crouching down by what remained of her tattered, shredded knapsack. It had obviously gotten caught in the crossfire of the attack as well. He sifted through the few belongs inside, setting aside anything that wasn't a potion. He was ready to turn to Teldryn and let him know that there weren't any potions in there besides ones for stamina when he saw the Dunmer rise out of the corner of his eye.

"What is this?" Teldryn asked, kneeling down to pick up one tiny, purple-hued bottle off the floor, rolling it around in the palm of his hand as he inspected it with furrowed brows.

"Oh, that? It's nothing," Brynjolf responded, frantically scooping up the little bottles and shoving them back into her pack, trying to sound nonchalant as he rose to his feet. It had become quite clear in the last few seconds that Indis had succeeded in hiding her addiction from Teldryn, and he had unintentionally revealed her little secret. She had obviously gotten her hands on more of the drug in Ivarstead.

"Because it looks like skooma to me."

"Really, now? I don't think—"

"I'm not a moron, _Fetcher_," he snapped, taking care to emphasize the insult he spat out at the man facing him. "Explain."

Brynjolf let out a tiny, audible groan, briefly glancing over at Indis, who was sprawled out in the shack's lone bed, snoring softly. "It started after Mercer…you know. I think that Khajiit caravan leader, Ri'saad, gave her some to help with the pain. She's been hooked on it ever since," he responded, briefly pausing as he looked up at Teldryn with a deep crease in his brow, his voice softer once he spoke again. "He really did, you know."

"What?"

"Mercer," Brynjolf continued, taking a seat in a wobbly chair that was pushed up against the wall. "He really did force himself on her. You should have seen her, it was ugly. Bruised, bloodied, battered, I'm surprised he didn't kill her. She didn't want me to send for you. She thought you'd be angry with her."

Teldryn remained silent, after finding himself in the surprising position of being at a complete loss for words. It wasn't exactly the most appropriate time for a snarky, sarcastic come back.

"Well," Brynjolf continued, breaking the silence. "I think I'm going to head back to Ivarstead, see if I can't get some potions. I think I'll get some more for healing, some for strength, and some to cure disease. No idea what attacked, and the beasts of the wild can leave you with all kinds of foul illnesses. I trust you'll be fine out here?"

After Teldryn gave him a quick, curt nod, Brynjolf stood, hoisting his pack over one shoulder as he headed towards the door of the shack. He paused with his hand on the knob. "I'll be as quick as possible."

* * *

After Brynjolf had departed, Teldryn had dozed off in the lone, rickety chair in the tiny cabin. It wasn't the intense cramping in his neck, or the awkward uncomfortable angle he had fallen asleep in that woke him up, but an abrupt slap to the face.

"You son of a bitch," Indis sputtered, raising her hand again. "You fucking asshole."

He managed to dodge the next slap. _Ah, there's my charming little Indis. That's the greeting I was expecting_. It had been obvious she had been delusional from her injuries and her fever when they first found her, and he had been bracing himself for when their effects wore off. "Ah, good. You're awake," he remarked, reaching up to rub at the stinging welt on his cheek. She raised her hand again, and he caught her gently by the wrist. "Let's try talking instead of hitting, shall we?" he continued, hoping she didn't recognize a line that they had used on Israna and Casimir all too frequently.

She begrudgingly lowered her hand, watching him suspiciously as she took a step backwards. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed as she folded her arms over her chest. "What are you doing here? Did you come all this way to tell me to remind me of what a whore I am?"

"No," he replied tersely, trying to remain as level-headed and calm as possible. "I came out here to apologize."

Indis gave a haughty little sniff. "Well, you can just go and shove your apology in a box, because Brynjolf is wonderful and we're very happy. In fact, we've fucked a dozen times already."

In spite of himself, he laughed, the mirthful, raspy chuckle filling the enclosed space. "Really now? I think you're lying."

"Oh, so that's it then," she spat, turning away so that he couldn't see the tears that had begun to collect in her eyes. "You came to reiterate just how much of a liar you think I am."

He stood, the joking smile quickly faded from his face as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that, m'sera. I honestly didn't. That's why I came all of this way; to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, to tell you that I love you, to do whatever is necessary to show you how serious I am. I meant none of it."

She snorted, reaching up to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Then why did you say it? It _sounded_ like you meant everything."

Pausing, he took a deep breath. He wasn't the type of man to sit around and talk about his feelings, and he dreaded and avoided more emotional talks such as these, but he recognized that there were situations where they were inevitable. Situations such as the current uncomfortable one he was in. "I was jealous," he finally admitted, slowly spinning her around so that she was facing him. "I got drunk, I got incredibly jealous. I couldn't stand the thought of Brynjolf laying even so much as the tip of a finger on you. Are you happy?"

Her chin trembled, and more tears threatened to spill over. "N-no. D-don't be such an ass. You said you'd be fine with it."

He groaned, reaching up to wipe away the tears, the pads of his thumbs lingering on her blotchy, red cheeks. "I'm sorry. Could I start over? I know I said I'd be fine with it, and I'm…I'm sorry. It's a lot more difficult in practice than in theory."

Despite the angry little scrunched up face she was making that screamed _no_, she nodded. Taking a deep breath, he continued, choosing his words carefully. "I didn't mean a word of what I said. All I can say is that I'm sorry, I love you, and I hope you'll forgive me. Eventually," he added, knowing that he had been a colossal asshole.

Much to his surprise, she shrugged. "You're lucky I love you, you fucker," she sighed, placing her head on his chest as she entwined her arms around his waist. "You're also lucky that I always forgive you easily, even when you don't deserve it. Asshole."

"I love all of the endearing names you have for me, my love," he joked, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Twelve times, did you and Brynjolf really…" he trailed, not certain he wanted to hear the answer.

"No," she admitted. "I did try to initiate something, though. All of that came to a grinding halt when I accidentally said your name. Oh, don't look so damned smug. Wipe that little smirk off your face," she said, reaching up to give his face a light, playful smack, stopping to trace the lines and crow's feet on his face. "Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?"

He sighed. "No."

"Do you ever think about how you'll outlive me? Probably by a long shot, too."

"Oh, I don't know about that, m'sera. You've probably taken plenty of years off my life. A good century or so, gone, thanks to you," he drawled. He had thought about it before, and he had always pushed the unpleasant thoughts quickly out of his mind. "Can we discuss something else?" he asked. She always did have a knack for turning the conversation in an unpleasant, unhappy direction at times.

She scowled, before giving a small shrug of her shoulders. "Something else? I don't want to talk anymore. Now, why don't you _show_ me just how sorry you are?"

Teldryn was surprised when she pulled his head down for a bruising kiss, and was even more shocked when she pulled away from him, a strange, hungry glint in her eye as she began to unbutton his shirt. Her wild, trembling fingers made it difficult and she soon gave up and yanked his shirt open, sending buttons flying all over the enclosed space, their gentle clatters as they fell to the wooden planks below breaking the silence.

"Indis, are you sure that you want—"

"Shush," she admonished, abruptly cutting him off. "Stop talking."

"Indis. Do you really want—"

"I thought I told you to stop talking."

"You're crazy."

"Maybe," she shrugged. She had set to work untying his trousers, slim deft fingers making short work of the knot that held them up and when he attempted to stop her, she swatted his hands away before looking up at him with a steely little glare.

"I know what I want," Indis continued, raising her eyes to meet his. "I want _you_."

When she kissed him again, he didn't stop her. He groaned aloud at the feeling, savoring the way her rough, chapped lips moved hungrily against his, and he found his hands wandering downwards, stopping at her waist. She pulled away briefly, stretching her arms towards the sky, and he slowly pulled her tunic over her head before abandoning it on the floor. Her breast band followed suit, quickly forgotten as it fluttered to the floor, and Teldryn drew her close again, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he breathed, his lips grazing the underside of her jaw, slowly moving down her neck, leaving a trail of searing kisses in their wake. He gave an inarticulate grunt as he felt her tongue dart out and trace along his ear and in spite of himself he shivered. She knew exactly how sensitive his ears were, and in mere seconds he had become painfully aroused.

"I want you to fuck me," she whispered, hot breath ghosting across his skin. "But not yet."

Indis' lips quickly deserted his ear, and she began to move downwards, occasionally pausing to nip at his collarbone, flick her tongue out at his nipple, and bite at the tensing muscles of his stomach before stopping between his legs. She settled onto her knees, reaching up to untie his smalls before tossing them into the pile of discarded garments that was littering the floor of the tiny shack. With a tiny smile, she pressed her lips against his tip, with just enough suction to make his head swim and he stifled a tiny groan, grasping at the nearby wall to steady himself. Giving no warning, she took his entire length, her small mouth expanding over his girth. As she pulled her mouth away, she looked up, maintaining eye contact as her teeth gently grazed against the length of his shaft. She wrapped her hand around him, sliding up and down in a steady pumping motion, watching as he tilted his head backwards with a groan, eyes glazing over in lust. Her mouth joined in once more, tongue sporadically flicking out in short, teasing strokes over the tip.

"By Azura," he growled, moving the hand that wasn't gripping the wall down, tangling it in her hair. "You're going to make me come undone, Indis." He stopped to grunt again, wishing that he could produce sounds as lovely as her soft, breathy moans, instead of groaning like animal.

She took him in her mouth again, the tip of his head hitting the back of her throat, and his hand on the top of her head guided her back and forth, and she felt him give a slight shudder every few seconds. He watched her head bobbing back and forth, listened to the sounds of her licking and sucking over every inch of his length, and when she paused to suck especially hard at the swollen tip, his knees swayed and his vision swam.

"Ahh, oh, fuck…that's it."

"What was that?" she asked, releasing him with a loud _pop_. "What'd you say?"

Teldryn looked down at her with a stony glare. "You know what I said. You're just being a little tease about it, though."

Indis laughed. "Maybe."

She took him in once more, mouth and tongue moving more quickly, and with more urgency, and she could feel him pulsing ever so slightly underneath her. He reached down to brush hair out of her face, groaning, muttering, as he neared his impending release. Focusing all of her attention at the head, her hand set to work on the shaft, quickly pumping up and down. His breathing became more ragged, his fingers clutched her hair tighter, and it didn't take long for him to climax. His seed coated her throat and mouth, and he was left panting, gasping for air.

"Good?" she asked after she had swallowed, wiping away the small trickle of creamy white liquid that had found its way down her chin.

"Very, very good," he rasped, helping her to her feet, his heart rate beginning to slow back down to its normal speed. "Now, I think it's time for me to return the favor."

She shook her head. "You know, you don't have to do that."

"I know," Teldryn replied, gripping her arms as he slowly guided her towards the single, narrow bed located within the shack. "But I want to."

"If you say so," she said, settling onto her back with a smile. She raised her hips briefly, allowing him to tear away the remainder of her clothing, propping herself up on her elbows as she watched him. He positioned himself above her, leaning down to kiss her, and when she pulled him down so that his body was flush against hers, he had to resist the urge to take her right there. Working his way slowly down her body, he let his lips brush against every puckered scar and remnant of past wounds. He parted her legs, exposing the area between her legs that was dusted with auburn curls. Wasting no time, he lowered himself in front of her, parting the glistening folds before him. Lowering his mouth, his tongue darted out, circling around the sensitive node, causing Indis to give a faint moan. His tongue moved side to side, circling, swirling around the tender bud, often coming close to penetrating her aching entrance, but never quite doing so. Sliding a pair of fingers inside of her, he pumped them gently, the rough pad of one calloused thumb rubbing and sliding in between her folds.

"Gods, Tel," she moaned, and he looked up to see that her back was arched, and her hands had flown to her chest, no longer seeking purchase on the bedsheets below, and her fingers were grasping at her swollen nipples, rolling the taut, hardened buds around in between her slim digits. "Fuck me."

"I'm not finished yet," he murmured from between her thighs, his hoarse voice muffled.

She shot up in the bed, fixing him with a determined stare. "I said that I wanted you to fuck me. _Now_."

Wiping his glistening facial hair off with the back of one hand, he stood. "I'm not sure that I can m'sera, at least not yet. Let me rest a little and—"

"There are a few stamina potions in my pack. Drink them," she commanded, pointing to the worn object lying on the floor. "Hurry up."

_Just as bossy and demanding as ever_, he inwardly groaned. After a long, dramatic sigh and the most theatrical eye roll he could muster, he obliged. He popped the cork out of one of the slender green bottles, grimacing as he downed the bitter potion. It didn't taste pleasant, but it certainly worked quickly, and he could already feel himself being rejuvenated after just a few short seconds.

She was waiting patiently on the bed, lazily lounging on one side, her head propped up on one fist. "Are you done yet? It's taking you long enough."

"Yes, I'm finished now," he sighed, settling down on the bed next to her, his hand running along her bare thigh. "Are you happy?"

"Not quite yet," she hummed, gripping one of his forearms, surprising him with her strength. All of a sudden, her grasp tightened and she flipped him so that he was on his back, and she quickly climbed on top, settling down so that she was straddling him. Reaching up with one hand, she gave one tug at the leather strip that held her hair in a messy bun, letting the disheveled locks fall down around her shoulders. His hands rested on her hips, his splayed-out dark grey fingers a stark contrast to the pale, freckled flesh below. As she began to grind herself against him, his fingers dug into her, leaving tiny, bruising marks beneath them as he pulled her down, unwilling to wait any longer.

As if she had heard his silent plea, she took him in one hand, raising her hips ever so slightly before lowering herself onto him. There was just the briefest moment of resistance before she pushed down completely, letting out a tiny gasp. They groaned in unison at the sensation and he sat up, leaning in as he took one of her nipples in his mouth, tongue nimbly swirling around the coppery bud until it was a stiff peak before switching to the other. She rolled her hips, and his thrusts found a rhythm that matched hers, and soon, her ragged breathing hitched in her throat.

"Tel, oh fuck, oh, by the Eight, I'm so close," she moaned, her head falling back, exposing her throat.

"Look at me," he grunted; tangling his fingers in her hair as he tilted her head forward, his eyes meeting hers. "I want to watch you come."

He didn't have to wait long. After a few more powerful thrusts, she found her release, her deep moan lost as he pressed his lips to hers. He was nearly sent over the edge as he felt her shudder and quake around him, as her nails dug into his back, and her cries heightened in pitch and intensity, but it was what he saw on her finger that gave him the final push towards release.

There was a faint glimmer in the light that caught his attention, and he was surprised to see that the wedding ring from Brynjolf was missing from her finger. The only piece of jewelry that was there was the ring he had given her. Him. She had chosen him. She loved _him_.

"I love you," he groaned, burying his face deep in the crook of her neck as he climaxed, biting down on her collarbone as he spilled himself inside of her. When he pulled away, he felt a tiny twinge of guilt when he saw the tiny trickle of blood from his bite mark. She looked down at it with a shrug, wiping it away before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I love you, too," she whispered, slowly climbing off of him. He watched her, taking stock of the tiny bruises, the bite marks, and the crescent-shaped indentations from his fingernails that dotted her body. They pleased him in a strange way, and he quickly found great satisfaction in the thought that it would be his seed trickling down her thighs, his marks left all over her body when Brynjolf returned. His only regret was that the Nord hadn't returned to overhear them.

She had waited until he had leaned back before resting her head on his shoulder and draping her arm across his chest. He knew that it would take time for her to fully forgive him, but if they had regular make up sessions such as the one they just participated it, he supposed that he could hold out a little longer.

"I'm glad I took Brynjolf's advice," she yawned, covering her mouth with one tiny hand before nestling herself in the crook of his arm.

He raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. "What advice?"

"He said that I should forgive you and that we should make up. He said that you didn't mean any of those things. He was right. Now, come on. Let's go to sleep."

With that, she subsequently ended their short conversation, and within a few minutes, she was already emitting a soft snore. Teldryn lay awake, unable to sleep, the thoughts swirling around in his head preventing him from dozing off.

_Perhaps he's not so bad after all._

* * *

_A/N: Next chapter, more talking, a visit to the Brotherhood, and some other exciting things._

_I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I've been working on my thesis like crazy, and it's really worn me down and I'm always kinda brain dead after doing work on it. _

_I also feel like I shouldn't have to say this, but after receiving a review that asked, 'where is the next fucking chapter', I guess I have to address this. Please! I'm incredibly stressed out and busy right now, and while I'm glad there are people who are really eager for the next chapter, but please don't hassle me about it. Please don't be rude about it either. It'll get updated when it gets updated, because it's the last thing on my list of priorities right now. New chapters may be a little slow, but please, please stick with me and be patient. I never want to rush anything and post a pile of crap, I always want to make sure I give new chapters the proper time and energy that they deserve. So, please. Just hang in there. Things will be slow for a while (probably through the end of August), but they'll pick up again. That's all I ask. I promise I won't be abandoning this story now, or ever._

_Once again, thank you so much for taking the time to read. I always, always appreciate your support. :)_

_EDIT: Dear Guest, I'm sorry for upsetting you. Wanna smooch and make up?_

_EDIT 2: It's all right, baby. All is forgiven! Let's hug._


	28. Boiling Point

**[Musical Inspiration : The Lightning Strike – Snow Patrol; Charge – Splendid; Leave My Body – Florence and the Machine]**

* * *

Indis twirled the strand of white hair around her fingertip; setting down the small piece of bread she had been eating in order to inspect it. "Oh, it looks like I missed a piece," she sighed, tucking it back behind her ear once more. "A big one, too."

Teldryn looked up at her, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "What do you mean you missed a piece?"

She sighed, smoothing down her hair. "I suppose I might as well tell you, you were going to find out sooner or later. I've been finding white hairs, so I've been…I've been dying my hair," she admitted, looking embarrassed by her confession. "It's vain, I know. They just bothered me a lot."

He shrugged, settling next to her on the bed. "There's nothing wrong with a few white hairs."

"I know, I know," she replied, reaching up to nervously twist her hair once more. "It's just that I'm only twenty-five, and it was more than just a few."

"How many are we talking?"

Her shoulders slouched forward, and she rested her chin on one balled-up fist. "All of them, Tel. I looked like an old woman," she groaned, falling back onto the dusty mattress. "It started about a year ago, and I've been dyeing it since then. If the soap's too strong, though, it'll wash it all out."

"So that's why your hair has looked a lot darker. Also, I doubt that you looked like an old woman," he murmured, positioning himself above her, leaning down to press his lips against her throat. His prickly stubble tickled the sensitive flesh, and her laughter vibrated against his mouth. All of a sudden, he pulled away, fixing her with a semi-serious gaze, resisting the urge to glance at her skooma-filled knapsack. "Any other dark secrets you've been hiding from me?"

She shook her head, looking up at him with a smile, having no idea at what he was hinting at. "No, nothing," she replied, giving him a quick kiss.

_Little liar_, he silently mused, giving her a small smile, one that hopefully suggested he was thoroughly unconvinced. "Now," he said, pulling her shirt up, exposing her stomach to the brisk air. He ran the tip of one finger over the deep, jagged scars that remained from whatever had attacked her. "Do you remember anything about what gave you these?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but quickly shut it. She knew exactly what had attacked her, but for some reason, she found herself hesitant to tell him the truth. _Just tell him, he might be able to help you! He might know what to do about this!_ "It…it was a couple of frost trolls," she lied, hoping he bought it. The narrowing of his eyes and the tiny exasperated sigh he let out told her that he hadn't been convinced. "They ran off after I used a Shout on them, I suppose they didn't want to bother with me after that," she offered up hopefully.

He sighed, pulling her shirt back down, knowing full well that whenever she was ready to share the truth, she would. "What were you going to Falkreath for?"

"I need to see Astrid. I need to see if the Brotherhood will help us find Mercer," she replied, tugging up the bed's furs around her body, motioning for him to get underneath with her. Once he had settled down, she rested her head on his chest and continued. "They're quite good at finding those who don't exactly want to be found. We haven't had any luck on our own. The bastard manages to resurface just long enough to wreak havoc and cause problems, but then he just vanishes into thin air afterwards."

"A solid plan. I'm sure Astrid will be unable to resist your charm, and you'll have the entire Brotherhood at your disposal," he replied, pausing briefly to press his palm against her forehead, shocked at how hot it was. "Are you sure you're feeling better? You're burning up, m'sera."

"Tel, I feel fine," she responded, swatting his hand away before burrowing down in the crook of his arm. "Honestly, I do."

He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head, able to see the white hair she was talking about with a single glance, taking in the snowy color that was peeking out from the roots. "After you talk with Astrid, we'll be going back to Riften, won't we?"

She sighed, having briefly forgotten about the little quest that the Greybeards had sent her off with. "Unfortunately, no. Those damned Greybeards want me to go to some bloody tomb north of Morthal and get some stupid horn that belonged to their founder. I don't want to do it Tel, I just want to go home. I miss Aventus, Izzy, and Cas," she sniffed, a choking sob abruptly cutting off her words.

"Shh, shh," he offered, smoothing down her hair. "We'll go to Falkreath, then we'll go get this horn that they want so badly, and then we'll take this thing back to them. I won't even stop you if you try and shove it up their asses."

She laughed, a somewhat weary sound that gave him the tiniest bit of relief. "After that, I'm done. No more of this Dragonborn bullshit," she said, pulling away slightly to look at him. "And no more Guild, either. I'm going to pass off the position of Guildmaster to someone else. I'll help them find Mercer, but that's it. I just want to be with you, Aventus, Izzy, and Cas. That's it."

He looked up at her in surprise. "But I thought you loved your work with the Guild?"

"I do, but nobody ever said that I couldn't continue that work elsewhere," she laughed. "What, did you think I would begin honest work? Hopefully, I can stay on as a fence."

"A man could hope. What kind of example are you setting for our children?" he asked, clucking his tongue playfully.

She rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully. "An awful one, I know."

"You know, there is that wretched little bee farm that you own now, and I'd say that's respectable."

Indis laughed, shaking her head. "Respectable? Not with the Black-Briars behind it, which Maven most assuredly will be. She's the one running the show, and we all just do what she says. I wonder how Erandur and Ralof are handling things," she added offhandedly, hoping that nothing would go awry, considering it was her head on the chopping block.

"Things seemed to be fine when I left," Teldryn responded. He reached out and took one of her hands in his, the pad of his thumb running over a puffy, red area on her hand's index finger. "What happened here?"

She looked down at the irritated flesh with a tiny scowl. "I've no idea. For some reason, the ring Brynjolf gave me started bothering me, irritating my finger. That's why I took it off," she said, glancing at the gem-encrusted silver ring lying on the small end table next to the bed.

"Here I was, thinking that you had taken it off because I'm your one and only true love," he gasped, placing his hand over his heart, feigning hurt and indignation.

"You are," she laughed, pulling him towards her. "You always will be. I'm sorry if I've taken away a reason for you to be smug around Brynjolf."

"Don't worry, I'll find something else to be smug about, I'm quite sure of it. You know…" he trailed off, looking up at her expectantly. "We'd talked about another child. Are you still interested?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be? We could start trying once we eventually get back to Riften."

"Oh, no," he replied, rasping voice lowering as he flipped her onto her back, hovering above her. "I think we should start trying right now."

* * *

Brynjolf wiped the mud off of his boots, briefly glancing upwards at the sky. Thick, heavy dark clouds had invaded the sky during his journey back from Ivarstead, and he was very much looking forward to getting indoors. He placed his hand on the doorknob, ready to twist it open and step inside, when a very loud female moan from within stopped him. Stepping backwards, he tried not to give a sidelong glance through the murky, clouded window, but he couldn't help himself. Indis and Teldryn had _very_ obviously made up, and they were getting reacquainted at that very moment. Even though he had made the suggestion, he couldn't help but feel a strong twinge of bitter envy.

_What are you waiting for? Just go inside. Technically, she's your wife, after all_, he told himself, raising his hand to pound on the worn, wooden door. "I'm back," he called out, banging the door with his fist once more. "I've got plenty of potions here for you, Indis."

He listened to the soft, mumbled curses from within, and the sounds they made when they scrambled to put their clothes back on, finally opening the door once the noises subsided. Indis greeted him with a smile and a warm embrace, and Teldryn's scowl silently informed him that he was very displeased with the sudden interruption.

"Do you have any potions of cure disease?" she asked, quickly removing the sack from his hands, frantically rifling through it, her slightly nervous tone causing the two men to look up at her in . "You know, just in case I've gotten Ataxia, or Bone Break Fever, or something even…something even worse," she trailed off, shoving the bag back into his hands once she had pulled out a pair of potions.

Indis twisted the corks out, quickly emptying them both before setting the bottles on a dusty shelf, ignoring their strange, intense gazes. _Hopefully this will do the trick. Hopefully. _Stretching her arms, she yawned. "We should probably get some rest. It's getting late, and I'd like to get an early start to Falkreath," she said, climbing back into the small bed that the shack offered.

"Sounds like a good plan," Brynjolf replied, and before Teldryn could react, the Nord sat down on the edge of the bed, kicking off his boots and removing his shirt before lying down next to Indis. "Sorry that you'll have to sleep on the floor," he said, giving the Dunmer a smile that suggested that he was anything but sorry. "I'm sure a bedroll will be just as comfortable."

* * *

"Are you sure you want to share a horse with me?" Indis asked, giving Teldryn a playful smirk as she grabbed the pommel of Horse's saddle. "You and Brynjolf looked awfully cozy together when I saw you two riding up, you with your arms around his waist—"

"Enough," Teldryn groaned, scowling at her. He glanced up at the Nord thief, who was already comfortably mounted on his own steed. Their eyes met briefly, before they both looked away. "If you keep that up, I'll just take your horse and leave you behind."

"Oh, you're no fun," she huffed, pulling herself into the saddle. "Tel, sit behind me."

He groaned, pulling himself up behind her. "Why do I have to sit behind you?"

"Because," she responded, closing her eyes as she leaned back against his chest. "I want to go to sleep. Now, let's head off to Falkreath," she added, hoping, praying, that they didn't bump into the creature that had attacked her.

* * *

The journey to Falkreath had mercifully been uneventful and they had made quick, steady progress through the mountain pass that led to the western hold. Indis had tried to fall asleep during the ride, but fears of encountering the beast that had nearly ripped her to shreds had prevented her from falling asleep. Thankfully, those fears did not become a reality.

"Oh, by the Divines, do you smell that?" Indis asked, struggling to suppress a gag. They had just arrived in Falkreath, and a foul, rotting stench permeated the air. She raised one gloved hand to cover her nose and mouth. "It smells like a rotting corpse."

Teldryn rolled his eyes and wrinkled his nose as he dismounted; dusting off his armor once his feet were firmly planted on the ground. "Oh, and here I was thinking that it smelled like a bouquet of deathbell and dragon's tongue. Of course it's a rotting corpse," he added, eyes scanning the area. "What else would it be?"

"It's got to be something enormous to be putting off a stench like that," Brynjolf chimed in, wrapping his horse's reins around the wooden railing in front of the Dead Man's Drink, Falkreath's local inn. "Excuse me," he said, flagging down a nearby guard. "What's that smell?"

The guard gave an irritated sigh as he shook his head. "It was a damned dragon," he answered, waving his hand towards the area of the city that the large cemetery was located in. "Thing swooped down a few weeks ago. We managed to kill it, but no one has known what to do with it or how to get it out, so it's just been lying out there, rotting. When the winds blow in the right direction…" he trailed off, shuddering as he leaned against the outer wall of the inn. "What you smell right now is nothing compared to that."

"You hear that, lass?" Brynjolf asked, lowering his voice as he turned towards Indis, looking at her eagerly. "A dead dragon."

"Yes, I heard. I was standing right here the whole time," she snapped, keeping her voice to a whisper so that the nearby guard couldn't hear. "I really don't want to deal with it. I really don't want people knowing that I'm Dragonborn. The fewer people that know, the better."

"Oh, come on," Teldryn whispered, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "There's a free dragon soul, just lying there for you to take. You wouldn't have to kill it; all you'd have to do is just walk up to it. I do know how much you like to get things for no effort."

Indis scrunched up her face in an angry scowl, giving him a tiny shove. "Oh? That may be true, but what if someone sees? Then everyone is going to know!"

"You know," Brynjolf said, briefly glancing over his shoulder at the guard. "I'll bet too many people aren't lingering around that area, given that it smells absolutely awful. You could probably get in there, get your soul, and we could be on our merry way. Besides you'd be doing a favor the people of Falkreath by getting rid of that pile of rotting flesh. What do you say?"

Indis bit her lip as she mulled over the proposition, her hand unconsciously slipping into her pocket, her fingers running over the edges of the Skeleton Key. She had still managed to resist using it, but it had become a tiny, comforting object that she frequently found her hand clasping when she was uncomfortable. It rolled around in the palm of her hand as she contemplated their suggestion and after a few seconds, she let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Fine, we can go and check it out. I'd best have the two of you watching my back to make sure nobody comes along."

She set off towards the back of the city with the two men hot on her heels, giving quick nods and fleeting smiles to those that they passed. As they drew closer to their destination, the smell intensified, and she wound her red scarf even more tightly around her mouth and nose. She heard Brynjolf gag loudly, and she tried to block out the noise. Seeing, or even hearing, someone lose their breakfast would ensure that she would most definitely follow suit.

"Well, we're here," Indis murmured, voice muffled by the fabric swathing her face. Raising one hand to swat flies out of her face, she stepped forward, watching as the telltale golden fire began to swirl around the decomposing dragon corpse, its scales and flesh disintegrating into nothingness as they crackled and burned, floating upwards into the sky. After the dragon's soul had swirled around her, enveloping her form, before joining, she let out a satisfied sigh, turning back towards her two companions, surprised to see one of Falkreath's guards watching her.

"Y-you…you're the Dragonborn!" the man called out, trembling hands grasping at his helm. He promptly tore it off, allowing her to see his wide-eyed, awestruck gaze. "Everyone, come here! It's the Dragonborn! This woman is the Dragonborn!" he bellowed, his frantic shouting drawing several of the city's residents to the scene.

"I think we'd best be going," Indis groaned, relieved that her scarf obscured half of her face. "Thank you, it's been lovely," she continued. She made to leave, but was jerked backward towards the dragon's skeleton by a large hand that wrapped around her wrist.

"Dragonborn, huh?" the man sneered as she turned to face him. "Rumor has it you're supposed to be dead. What've you been doing all of these years, instead of killing dragons, like you're supposed to be doing, hmm? Sitting on that pretty little arse of yours while villages have burned to the ground, just letting people die?"

Indis looked up, unsurprised to see a furious Teldryn trudging towards them, but before he could interject, she shoved the man away with more strength and force she thought she had. "Fuck off," she spat, her heart already beginning to pound a violent rhythm against her chest. "It's none of your damned business what I've been doing."

"Oh, but it is," interjected a thickly accented female voice, and Indis looked up to see a tall Nord woman marching towards her. "If you had been here, you could have kept the dragon from Ancient's Ascent from taking my goats. Go get my goats!"

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breathing had become loud, harried and frantic, her fingernails angrily dug crescent moon shaped welts into her clenched palms, and her face had become a bright, vivid flush of red. "Go and get your goats?" she snapped, voice cracking with fury. "I've got news for you, you dumb shit, that dragon didn't carry your goats up to the top of a mountain to start a little farm, it fucking ate them. They're gone, your goats are dead, you dimwitted fucker," she continued, her face becoming an even deeper shade of red.

"Well, then," the Nord woman replied, folding her arms over her chest as she gave an indignant sniff, going slack-jawed at Indis' response. "Since it's your fault my goats are gone, you owe me new ones."

"I do not owe you goats; I do not owe you fuckers anything!" Indis screamed, stomping towards the crowd that had gathered. "All of you can just go fuck yourselves!"

She took a deep breath, ready to continue her tirade against the people of Falkreath, when the soothing, soft light of a calming spell enveloped her, and Teldryn stepped forward, catching her as she slumped indelicately towards the muddy earth, already in a deep slumber. "Well, I think that's enough. The show's over," he said simply, hoisting her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He waited until those that had gathered had ambled off, many of them casting dark, angry looks towards her over their shoulders, before turning towards Brynjolf.

"I think it's safe to go ahead and assume that we won't be welcome here in Falkreath tonight," the Dunmer sighed, and Brynjolf nodded in agreement. "Let's go get the horses. We should just pass through now and make for Lakeview."

He followed Brynjolf, ignoring the burning, penetrating gazes of those that they passed by. As he walked by a woman leaning against a shoddily built fence, out of the corner of his eye he saw her lean over towards her companion and speak in what she likely believed was a whisper.

"By the Nine, who knew the Dragonborn was such a mean, crazy bitch?"

* * *

_A/N: There was initially supposed to be a lot more to this chapter, but in order to break it up into something that was easier to read and not so crazy long, I separated it. Next chapter, she'll reunite with the Dark Brotherhood and her very special, awesome vampire friend, and then some other exciting stuff will happen. Can't tell you now because, you know...spoilers._

_I may get the next chapter up by this weekend, but before I do that I have a lot of beta duties that I need to work on, I still need to respond to reviews from the last chapter, and I have so many chapters of stuff you guys are writing to catch up on! Once I make it through a considerable chunk of those things, I'll sit down and get to work on the next chapter._

_As always, thank you so much for reading. You guys are absolutely wonderful, and your support and kind words are always appreciated! _


	29. Blindside

**[MUSICAL INSPIRATION: Avril 14****th**** – Aphex Twin; Hurt – Johnny Cash; Skinny Love – Bon Iver; The Ice is Getting Thinner – Death Cab for Cutie]**

* * *

"It's been so long since we've been here," Indis yawned, raising one hand to cover her mouth as she inspected Lakeview Manor. It looked to be very much the same as when they had last left it all of those years ago, but with weeds sprouted up all around the property and a more weather-beaten appearance to the house itself. "I wonder if anyone is inside."

"Well, we won't know until we go in there," Teldryn said, fumbling around in his pocket for the key to the manor. "Indis, would you mind grabbing all of our bags?"

She frowned, a tiny, scrunched up scowl forming on her face. "Tel, I don't want to. You know I don't like carrying heavy things. Besides, I'm tired," she whined, stretching her arms. "You or Brynjolf can carry them in. I don't want to."

"A little help, muthsera," he mumbled irately as he turned the knob and pushed the door open. "A little help is all I ask for. Just once, I want to not have to do things by myself," he continued, backtracking to pick up the knapsacks that she had left strewn on the ground next to Horse, who she hadn't bothered to put in the property's small stable. After he had stabled her mount, he picked up all of the bags, finally heading inside Lakeview.

"Indis, you didn't put Horse in the stable," he griped, fixing her with a glare that did nothing to unsettle her. He dropped the bags on the floor near their bedroom, making no attempt to handle them delicately. "He could have just wandered off."

"Sorry," she apologized half-heartedly, giving him a small, sheepish smile. "I suppose I had just figured that you would take care of it."

"Well, you weren't wrong about that," he muttered, brushing past Brynjolf as he scanned the main area of the house. There were several lit candles on the long table, and the dim, orange-gold light of dusk filtered in through the windows above, mingling with the light cast off by the flames. Running one finger along a nearby shelf, he was surprised to find that there was no dust. "Is there anyone here? It looks like the place has been occupied."

She shrugged, peeking around the corner into the kitchen. "Hello? Anyone here?" she called out, voice echoing throughout the house. After a few seconds, their ears were met with the sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs and the cellar door being flung open.

"Well, there's a face I thought I'd never see again!"

Indis looked up, smiling as she took in the sight of Stenvar, the older mercenary she had hired years ago to primarily act as a bodyguard for Aventus, later hiring him on to be Lakeview's steward. "It's good to see ya again, Indis. You too, Teldryn. I didn't think you two would ever come back here. Where's Aventus, and those little ones of yours?"

"We decided it was time to head back to Skyrim, and that we had been gone long enough," Indis replied, leaning against the nearby wall. "Everyone else is back in Riften, but hopefully you'll see them soon. This is Brynjolf, by the way," she continued, gesturing to the redheaded Nord who had made himself comfortable at the dining table. "He's an associate from the Guild. Where's Lydia?"

At the mention of her Whiterun housecarl's name, his face darkened and his brow furrowed momentarily, but his face quickly reworked itself into a smile. "Lydia? That ended a few months ago. She's gone back to Whiterun."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she replied, awkwardly scratching at the nape of her neck, uncertain of what else to say.

He shrugged. "Don't be. Sometimes those things happen, relationships end and they don't work out, no matter how much you care. Sometimes they're meant to end. It's been fine, though. That friend of yours, Serana, came looking for you here a few weeks ago. I told her you'd inevitably stop by, so she just stayed put. She's helped me keep the place up, keep away the wolves and bandits. She's around here somewhere."

"I'm right here, actually," said a familiar female voice, and Indis rushed past Stenvar, wrapping her arms around the vampire in a tight embrace. "It's good to see you again," Serana added, giving a tiny nod to both Brynjolf and Teldryn. "You're probably wondering why I'm here, given that I didn't exactly tell you that I was planning on visiting here, but I—"

"So, why are you here?" Teldryn asked, groaning as he took a seat in a nearby chair. "More vampire business and Dawnguard bullshit, no doubt."

"Teldryn, shut up," Indis snapped, turning to glower at him. "Just let her speak. Why are you here?"

"Well, he's not wrong. There is more vampire trouble. Remember how we thought we cleared out the entire castle and eliminated my father's court?"

"I do. What's going on?"

"It turns out that one of my father's court members, one of his favorite little pets actually, escaped. It seems that he's gathered quite the little following, and he sent some of those that he turned to the castle just to let us know that he's planning on fulfilling the prophecy," she sighed, shaking her head. "I wanted to warn you, since you carry Auriel's Bow and they'll undoubtedly come after it to fulfill the prophecy. We can talk about it more later, though," she said, smiling. "You all look absolutely exhausted."

* * *

During every Guild job she went on, Indis had found it difficult to resist the urge to snatch a few books on her way out, and as time progressed, she had managed to build an impressive library of stolen books in Lakeview Manor. She stood in front of one shelf, packed to the brim with worn, dusty tomes, tapping her foot as impatiently she scanned the titles.

"I know they're here somewhere," she muttered to herself, hoping she could find them before Teldryn or Brynjolf wandered up to see what she was doing. She stopped her search, eyes falling on two titles that were conveniently located next to each other. "Oh, I've found you," she breathed, pulling them from the shelf, shoving them underneath her robe as soon as she heard footsteps approaching.

"There you are," she heard Teldryn's low, rasping voice say. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Just looking at the books. Do you always need to know what I'm doing?" she replied wearily as she turned around, trying her best to hide the bulky volumes shoved against her stomach. "I wasn't doing anything wrong, you know."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he gave the briefest of glances downwards towards the lump of books before meeting her eyes once more. "I never said that you were doing anything wrong. How have your wounds been healing?" he asked, hoping the question would prod her into telling the truth about what exactly attacked her.

She stiffened instinctively, wondering if he would want to inspect them. "They're fine. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"I made dinner," he offered, holding out an arm to stop her in her path. "Roasted skeever. Stenvar had some that Serana killed in the cellar."

Indis wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. "Disgusting, no thank you."

"A little gratitude and appreciation, your highness," he replied tersely, a muscle in his jaw beginning to twitch. _It isn't better, and you know it's not better. This can't go on any longer_, he thought to himself, watching her as she frowned at him. "Something other than a constant snide attitude would be a pleasant change."

"You're one to talk," she huffed, pushing past him as she headed toward the door that led to one of the outdoor patios. "You're the one who's an ass. I'm going outside."

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. "I'm going on a walk. I'll see you later."

* * *

Indis took a seat next to Serana, setting the books down on the table in front of them with a dull _thud_. "Serana, could we talk? It's important," she said, brushing aside the dead leaves that covered the table's bench before she took a seat.

"Interesting choices of reading material," the vampire responded, tapping the spine of _Physicalities of Werewolves_ with the tip of one slim finger. "Are you researching your new condition?"

Indis' eyes widened, and her jaw dropped open ever so slightly. "What? How did you…I'm not a werewolf. Well, I don't think I am. I haven't turned into one… yet," she added nervously, pushing the books away. "I was attacked by one, though."

"I could smell it on you as soon as I first saw you. I knew that something was different, and it took me a while to place the scent," Serana replied, grabbing one of the books that Indis had abandoned, flipping it open. "I remember that before I got locked away in Dimhollow, my father turned a man who was a werewolf. You scent is very, very similar to his," she finished, choosing out to leave out the fact that Indis reeked of the essence of dirty, wet dog. "Not exactly the same, but close enough."

"Gods, so does that mean I'm actually…" Indis said, her eyes widening as she processed what Serana had just told her. "Oh, fuck."

"Don't worry, it'll be fine," Serana replied, placing one comforting hand on Indis' forearm. "You and I will do some research, and I'll help you learn about this. We'll figure things out. It will be fine," she repeated, looking satisfied once Indis managed to muster up a weak smile. "Good. Now, I'm assuming that no one else knows about this?"

"Knows about what?

Indis whipped around, surprised to see Teldryn coming up the steps towards them. Without thinking, she snatched the books off the table and flung them off the patio towards the thick, dense cluster of pines that was nearby, finally turning back towards him with a strained smile. "Nothing. Knows about nothing."

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest as he watched them. "Throwing books off of balconies seems a little suspicious, so you understand why I'm curious."

"I said nothing, all right? It's none of your damn business," she retorted, turning away from him, reaching out to fiddle aimlessly with a cup resting in front of her.

"Fine," he barked, storming off towards the manor. "You don't want to tell me what's going on? Fine. I'm done here."

* * *

The door shut behind Indis with a soft _click_, and as soon as it was closed, she set off towards the lower level of the manor, treading as quietly as she could back towards her bedroom. The hour was late, and she had woken up in the middle of the night with a craving for skooma that refused to go away, setting off to take care of it as discretely as possible. Teldryn hadn't spoken to her after the little incident out on the patio, and she hoped that she could avoid waking him up and avoid having to speak with him.

When she stepped through the door to the bedroom, she was surprised to see Teldryn sitting on the edge of the bed, looking up at her with a deep frown and a furrowed brow.

"Where were you?" he asked, red eyes narrowing suspiciously. His eyes raked over her form, taking in her glassy, bloodshot eyes and he caught the strong, heady scent of freshly smoked skooma after one deep inhale.

She shrugged as she walked around to her side of the bed, refusing to meet his eyes with hers. Kicking off her worn slippers, she crawled back into bed, burrowing back down underneath the covers as she rolled away from him. "I just stepped out to get a bit of fresh air, that's all. I couldn't sleep very well."

"Getting a bit of fresh air?" he drawled hoarsely, shifting to face her. "Is that just another name for using skooma?" He watched as her body tensed up, one tiny hand clenching around the blankets.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted, tone unconvincing as she reluctantly looked up at him.

He stood up rapidly, wringing his large grey hands in frustration as he began to pace the room. "Gods dammit, Indis! I know that you were out there smoking skooma," he groaned, whipping around to face her. "Stop lying to me."

"I was not," she lied, watching as his face crumble after she spoke the three, tiny, seemingly insignificant words. "I don't know why you think I'd be lying to you about this."

"So, is this a new moon sugar fragrance that you've been trying out? It's obvious, Indis. Gods, it's so fucking obvious! Why can't you tell the truth for once? Even when you're caught and backed into a corner, you still can't come clean."

She watched him quietly for a few seconds, feeling a niggling sensation that she should just be honest, that she should confess. He was right, after all. She ignored that feeling and pressed on. "I don't know what's wrong with you," she snapped, mouth pursing itself into a thin, tight line, the effects of the drug addling her mind, dashing any hopes of making clear, calm decisions or statements. "You're always accusing me of being a liar, and never telling you the truth. We should be talking about you, and not me," Indis continued indignantly, fixing him with a ferocious glare.

"Oh, of course. I should have known that this was going to happen," Teldryn hissed angrily. "You've gotten to be quite good at turning things away from you and onto others, making it seem as though they're the ones who are causing all of the problems."

Her eyebrows rose, and the hand that she had been rubbing furiously at her neck with came to a dead halt. "Teldryn, I don't know what you're talking about. I don't understand."

"I know, and that's exactly why we should talk, m'sera," he replied, his voice dropping to a lower, calmer, more hushed tone. He sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to him, motioning for her to join him. "This is something we've needed to do for a while."

Indis lowered herself slowly, avoiding meeting his eyes once more as she took a seat. She was silently stewing, still seething over the lying accusations that had become more frequent as time had progressed, trying to ignore the fact that even though they were infuriating and hurtful to hear, they were absolutely correct. "What do we need to talk about? Teldryn, we've already talked," she insisted, letting out a long, melodramatic sigh. "You apologized for all of those things you said about me, and everything is better now. I've forgiven you, Tel. Come, let's go back to bed."

He grabbed at her hand as she made to stand, pulling her back down to the bed. "It isn't about that, Indis. Yes, I am still incredibly, terribly sorry for everything that I've said. But please, stop changing the subject. Stop turning this around on me. What we're talking about here is something we've needed to discuss for weeks, for months, for years. We need to do this, Indis," he said, pausing to take a deep breath as he studied her face, hoping to see any indication of what she was thinking. "We need to talk about _you_."

She gave a derisive snort and waved one hand dismissively, rolling her eyes, a reaction that didn't surprise him in the least. She had never been particularly welcoming or open to receiving criticism of any kind. "I don't think so, Teldryn."

"Well, I do, and for once, you're going to sit here and listen to me. You're not going to walk away, you're not going to sit here and listen. Listen to me, Indis. We need to talk. We truly do."

"No, I won't, because there's nothing wrong. Teldryn, just… just stop."

Teldryn stood, walking away from her, his shoulders slouching forward dejectedly. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, Indis," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Take much more of what?" she asked, standing up to join him, beginning to feel genuinely confused. "I thought we were fine. We made up, things are back to the way they were. Teldryn, there really isn't anything more to discuss."

"Everything is not fine, Indis. It hasn't been for a very, very long time, m'sera. We've ignored this for far, far too long."

She furrowed her brow, eyes darkening as she stopped in front of him, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about. Everything is fine to me."

He laughed, creating a harsh, brittle sound that filled the entire room. "That's the problem, you see. Everything is fine to _you_ because you're the one running things. You're the one dictating how things are to be done, with no regard for others. Everything is done your way, and you do everything you want, without thinking of the consequences."

"I don't understand."

"You keep saying that, but I think you _do_ understand. Perfectly, actually. You just don't want to hear this."

"That isn't true. I can handle this just fine, thank you very much. I just don't think you're right."

"You don't think I'm right? First, let's talk about this entire gods damned thing with Brynjolf," he spat, pausing to gnaw angrily on his lip. "I didn't get any say in it; you just fucking told me how things were going to be done. You told me what you were going to do, little consideration given for how I felt and it was clear that I was just to accept it," he continued, voice rising slightly in volume. "I thought that after I had found you after our fight, after we had made up, things would be better, but what I got instead was a constant reminder of all of the issues I've ignored, and you've been completely unaware of." Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as though she was readying herself to speak, but words continued spilling forth from his mouth, cutting off any intentions she might have had. The dam had broken, and there was no holding back the floodwaters.

"And the lying. Don't even get me started on the fact that you lie to me and to everyone else all the time, about absolutely _everything_," he muttered as he began to pace the room, beginning to shake with nervous energy. He suddenly whipped around to face her. "Sometimes… sometimes, I feel as though I don't even know who you are. I thought things were better when we were living at Castle Volkihar, but apparently there was plenty that you were hiding from me then, too."

"B-but, I've told you things. I've told you about Serana, and now apparently you know about the skooma, so…" she trailed off, her breath hitching in her throat. She hadn't expected this. None of it. "Teldryn, I love you," she finally said, uncertain of what else to say.

"That, I feel, is just another lie. You love what I've offered you; support, someone who will fuck you, someone who will love and validate you, someone who will let you run wild without any consequences, but you don't love _me_. I don't deserve this, and you know what? Brynjolf doesn't either. He's a decent man."

"I have been nothing but good to you," she retorted weakly, ignoring the chuckle he let out upon hearing her words. "Teldryn, I love you, and I've supported you by being the one that brings in all of the gold, the one that has given us places to live, and now you're just tossing it all back in my face like an ungrateful little shit!"

"I'm the little shit? You reluctantly told me about Serana, and I found out about the skooma on my own. I know it wasn't a troll that attacked you back in the Rift, given that you're a terrible liar, but you still won't tell me what it was. You're never going to be completely honest with me, Indis," he said, running a hand down over his face. "That's what I want from you. I don't want, or expect you to tell me absolutely everything, but dammit, I want you to be honest about what you do tell me, and I want you to trust me. I'm tired of all of your lies and you constantly hiding things from me."

She didn't respond, watching him with wide eyes, silent tears beginning to roll down her cheeks as she twisted her hands together, watching him anxiously. She struggled to find a response, the gravity of the situation finally crashing down on her with a suffocating intensity.

"Israna, Casimir, and Aventus. Our children. They love you so gods damned much, but you can hardly be bothered to spend any time with them. They need you to give them the love and attention that they deserve. They don't need a neglectful skooma addict as a mother," he added, painfully aware of just how much his words would sting. "That gods damned spider of Aventus' has done a better job of taking care of them."

She gave a tiny, horrified gasp, blinking furiously to fight back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. "You know that's not fair to say. I love Izzy, Cas, and Aventus, more than anything, and you know that. Fine, so perhaps I haven't been the best mother, but I've had a lot to deal with, or have you forgotten that? I've been in charge of running the Guild, we've been trying to hunt down Mercer, and then I'm also Dragonborn."

"Excuses," he said simply, waving a hand at her. "That is all that those are, Indis. They're just excuses. For over two years, we did nothing but laze about in that fucking freezing castle because you insisted it was the 'right' thing to do, so that you could raise Israna and Casimir, which you hardly did, given that you were always fuck knows where with Brynjolf or Serana. As for the Guild? Be honest, for once in your life. Brynjolf was the one running that show, doing all the work while you sat around and ate sweet rolls and weren't doing a damn thing to help find Mercer Frey. Stop making excuses to avoid responsibility," he continued, voice rising in volume, unable to stop the next words that spilled out of his mouth. "We should never have had children. You were not ready to be a mother, and who knows when you will be."

His words hit her like slap, and he fell quiet, nervous, uncomfortable silence crackling between them. She sniffled, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her nightgown. "Teldryn, I don't understand where all of this is coming from. How can you say things that are so hurtful?" she whispered, burying her face in her hands, refusing to even consider the possibility that he was right about _everything_. To her, it had all come from nowhere. "I love you so, so much. All of you, don't you see that? Why can't you see that?"

"Sometimes love is not enough," he sighed, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "All of the signs were there, m'sera. All of them. If you had been paying attention, you might have noticed these problems, but then again, I don't think you would have cared enough."

"How can you say things like this?" she sobbed, chin quivering as she looked up at him, eyes swimming with fresh tears. "None of this is true. None of it."

"It is true, m'sera. Some of the fault is undoubtedly mine for letting it get this far without doing anything about it. You are selfish. You are petty. You are manipulative. You are greedy. You are lazy. You are childish. You are immature. You don't care about others," he listed off, ticking each unpleasant personality trait off on his fingers as he ran down the list. "You are absolutely infuriating, exhausting, and even though I love you more than anyone else on Nirn, I can't do this anymore. Not until things are different."

"Teldryn… Teldryn, please. I can change," she choked out, grabbing at his arms. "I mean it! I love you. I'll do anything for you. There are problems, yes, but now that you've told me everything about how you feel, we can fix them. We'll fix them, and then things will be fine. I promise."

He shook his head as he peeled her hands off of him, pulling away. "Ah, yes. Words I've heard many, many times before. 'Teldryn, I love you, I can change. I mean it this time. I promise'. Indis, I don't believe you. It's a lie I've fallen for before. I believe you're perfectly content as you are, and you don't see fit to change. You've never had any incentive before, so I'm giving you some. When you are ready to get serious, to be the mother that our children deserve and the partner that I need, come find me in Riften."

"Please, please don't go," she whispered, trying to stop him as he grabbed his pack, beginning to shove his belongs inside with quaking, unsteady hands. "Please. Please, stay. It's late, don't go. We can sleep, and then we'll talk about this more in the morning, Tel."

He slung his pack over his shoulder after he had pulled on a shirt and boots, stopping in front of her. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and also the very worst," he said, tilting her chin upwards to place a gentle kiss on her lips before he backed away. "I love you, m'sera. Goodbye."

* * *

_A/N: Please, please don't hate me. *backflips into outer space to hide*_

_Do you want something happy to read? Do you want to laugh? Then go read Lady of Dov's story 'Gods Save Us All'. Do it. Hold onto your butt, because you might just laugh it right off._


	30. The Sound of Silence

It always rained in Falkreath. Always.

For as long as Indis could remember, puffy clouds swept in over the manor, snuffing out the bright, afternoon with thick tendrils of grey. Booming thunder and flashes of blinding lightning quickly followed suit, and the heavens opened up to let forth a magnificent downpour.

This afternoon was no different, and the constancy was something strangely reassuring that she appreciated. Indis on a tiny little bench next to one of the windows that looked out over the large porch at the back of the house, her arms wrapped tightly around the knees that were drawn tightly to her chest. Thick droplets of rain splattered against the clouded panes, and she had remained silent since the downpour started, dull eyes watching the drops of water roll down the glass.

Indis had been silent for much of the past week, doing her best to avoid eye contact with Serana, Brynjolf and Stenvar, speaking only when she absolutely had to, not caring that she had created a quiet, uncomfortable, somewhat hostile atmosphere. One week had passed since she had been swept away in shock by Teldryn's cold, harsh outburst of emotion, and she had run after him kicking, wailing, and screeching, until she was finally dragged back indoors by a surprisingly calm Serana. She had waited as patiently as she could manage, but by the evening of the third day without his return, when the revelation that he wasn't returning dawned upon her, the cold harsh realization hit her like a warhammer to the gut. He was gone, and he was gone for good.

"Lass," called out a soft voice, and Indis managed to muster up enough energy to tear her gaze away from the dripping wet window, turning to face Brynjolf. "It's probably time to go speak with Astrid. It wouldn't do well to dawdle here in Falkreath too much longer, since you've still got to travel to Ustengrav, then back to High Hrothgar. Get dressed, and we'll leave right after. Meet me out by the stables. I'll have the horses ready to go."

After a few seconds of blank staring, she gave a defeated shrug, clambering off of the small bench before shuffling past him towards her wardrobe. She rummaged around for a few minutes; her hands emerged tightly clenched around her Dark Brotherhood armor. Running her hands over the smooth red and black leather, she let out a sigh before pulling her nightgown over her head, letting it fall to the floor. Grunting ever so slightly, she managed to tug on the stiff leather armor, jerking on her boots afterwards. Brushing a tangled, greasy lock out of her face, she avoided inspecting herself in the lopsided mirror that adorned the wall near the door, breezing through the house and out towards the stables.

"Good, you're here. I've gotten Horse all ready to go for you," Brynjolf said as she approached, giving her a kind smile, something that only irritated her. Everyone had been treading around her as though she was a delicate, unstable, fragile flower, offering her nothing but sickly sweet words of comfort and simpering smiles. Indis found it absolutely infuriating.

"I'm ready to go," she mumbled once she had arrived at the ramshackle stable that Lakeview boasted. "You don't have to come with me, you know," she continued, surprising the Nord with a response that was more than a grunt and a quick, terse mumble. "It's been a few years, but I still remember where the Sanctuary is located."

"I know, I know. Serana and I thought it'd be best if someone went along with you, just to keep an eye out for trouble. Falkreath is full of all kinds of strange, dangerous things," he replied, shuddering as he thought back to the necromancer that had set up some kind of dark, arcane ritual near Lakeview. An unfazed Stenvar had dispatched of the man quite quickly, and Brynjolf was surprised to learn that occurrences such as those where the norm for Falkreath. "I can watch the horses while you're speaking to Astrid."

"Suit yourself," Indis sighed; giving a shrug of indifference as she shoved her foot in the saddle's stirrup, pulling herself up onto Horse's back. "Come on, let's go."

* * *

Indis had never been highly involved with the Dark Brotherhood, given that the Guild was the focus of most of her time and effort, but she visited the Sanctuary on a regular basis before they made the temporary move to Castle Volkihar. Despite all of those visits, she had never gotten used to the Black Door and its shrill, piercing whisper as it demanded the password from her. After mumbling the response and pulling her fingers from her ears, she yanked the heavy door open, slipping through. Pulling it shut behind her, she slowly trudged down the steps of the small pathway that led down into the spacious cavern that housed Skyrim's Guild of assassins.

As she rounded the corner, the Brotherhood's sultry blonde leader looked up from her post in the small area that housed her desk, eyes widening in surprise when she recognized Indis. "Ah, now there's a face that I haven't seen in a while," Astrid hummed, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards in a smile. "Indis, Indis, Indis. What brings you here? Last I heard, you were living up north, holed away in some castle with the Dawnguard. Is your blade thirsting for blood, is that why you're here? I've got plenty of contracts, if you're looking for one."

"I need help," Indis said bluntly, in no mood to make polite chit-chat. She wanted nothing more than to get this conversation over with and to retreat back to Lakeview, if only to crawl back into her bed and stay there forever. "More specifically, the Guild needs help. You remember Mercer Frey, the former Guildmaster, correct?"

One of Astrid's eyebrows quirked upwards, and she folded her arms over her chest, watching Indis intently. "Yes, I remember Mercer Frey. I only met him a few times before he, well, you know… betrayed your lot."

"Yes. Good. We need your help finding him."

Astrid tossed her head back and laughed, the mirthful sound echoing throughout the small stone chamber they were in. When she realized that Indis was still staring at her sullenly and silently, she stopped, her laughter gradually fading away. "By Sithis, you're serious, aren't you?"

"Why else would I be here?" Indis replied through gritted teeth, taking a deep breath before she continued. "I know that typically, the Guild and the Brotherhood don't get involved in each other's business, but we need help. Mercer has managed to keep himself pretty well hidden, and he's made himself known just long enough to wreak havoc before he vanishes again. The Guild's strength is in finding items, not people. That's where you come in. We just need help finding him, that's all. Once you do that, the pleasure of killing him will be mine. Whatever it takes to get your help to do it, consider it done."

The blonde leaned forward, resting the palms of her hands on the cool slab of stone that comprised her desk, watching Indis curiously. "This isn't just about his betrayal, is it?" she mused, meeting Indis' eyes with her own. "This is something deliciously personal, I can feel it," she continued, her fingers beginning to drum excitedly on the stone as she considered Indis' offer. "I tell you what. I'm willing to make you a deal."

"Oh?"

"There's one contract that our former Listener attempted to take care of, and it has yet to be completed," Astrid sighed, leaning back to take a seat in the chair behind her. "Do it and we'll help you find your Mercer."

"Former Listener? Attempted?" Indis said, rubbing at her temples. She had met the Listener, a charming young Breton man named Liam, before she and Teldryn had left all of those years ago. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

Astrid waved a hand dismissively. "He was far too cocky, letting this business of being the Listener go to his head," she muttered disdainfully. "He thought he was something special, and he got sloppy, even though he knew that this was a dangerous contract. He got caught, and the guards cut him down. He was sliced nearly in half, or so I'm told. I didn't see the body."

"So, you don't have a Listener any longer?"

"If you ask me, it's a good thing," Astrid said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "Enough of that, though. If you take care of the contract that he left unfinished, then we'll help you find Mercer. You have to promise me one thing, though."

Indis stifled a groan and nodded. "Fine. What is it?"

"The contract is Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak's steward, Jorlief. I don't know why someone wishes him dead, but you're going to take care of it. Please, do try to avoid ending up like Liam."

_Windhelm. Ulfric Stormcloak. Fucking wonderful._ "Anything else?"

"After you kill Mercer, I want to know every little beautiful detail of what happened and how you did it, understood?" the assassin breathed. "Oh, and do come and visit more. I miss our little talks. Go talk to Arnbjorn. I think he'll be the one best suited for the task."

After giving a nod, Indis set off towards the main area of the Sanctuary in the direction of the blacksmith's forge, knowing she would find Astrid's husband at work there. Rounding the corner of the narrow path, she trudged towards the massive Nord man, stopping in front of his workbench. "Arnbjorn. Astrid told me to speak with you."

He looked up at her, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. "Morsel," he replied, giving a furtive sniff of the air in front of him. She smelled the same as when he last saw her, but there was something different there, and after a few seconds of quiet contemplation, he realized what it was. She was like him. "Long time no see. You're different," he grunted at her, snatching the hammer back up, bringing it back down on the blade he had been crafting, wondering when she had received the gift of the blood.

"It's been a few years. Things change," she replied dully, obviously eager to get their conversation over with. "Astrid said you could help me, well, the Guild, find someone after I fulfill a contract."

"Oh? If Astrid says so, I'll do it. Come back after you've taken care of that contract like she's asked, and then we'll talk more, tidbit."

"Fine," she sighed, turning on her heel, ready to finally make an exit. She had just entered the path that led back towards the Black Door when she slammed into someone, accidentally knocking them to the ground.

"Sorry," she mumbled, groaning when she saw that it was Cicero, the mad little jester who was the Night Mother's Keeper. Indis had met him a few times, and she wasn't quite sure what his duties were, but she was more than aware that he spent most of his time oiling the shriveled corpse that spoke to the Listener. Indis extended her hand, jerking him upwards to his feet once he had clasped it. "Sorry about that, Cicero."

"No mind, no mind. Cicero is fine," he cackled, dusting off his jester's outfit before looking up to inspect her, beady little eyes running over her face. "But little Indis is not fine, is she? Hmm?"

"I'm perfectly fine," she lied, furrowing her brow as she mustered up a ferocious scowl. Most would have understood that she wanted nothing more than to be left alone and to abandon the issue, but Cicero wasn't most. She knew that much. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to be going."

He clucked his tongue, shaking his head, looking up to give her a small, sad smile as he brushed past her into the Sanctuary. "Cicero knows pain when he sees it, sister."

* * *

Brynjolf was exactly where she had left him, slouching against a moss-covered boulder, delicately tearing apart a piece of nightshade that he had plucked from the earth nearby. He looked up expectantly at the sound of the Black Door grinding shut, perking up when he saw that it was Indis. "Well? How did it go?"

"Fine. She's agreed to help us if I take care of a contract that's caused them a bit of trouble," she replied, untethering Horse from the tree that his reins were wrapped around. She placed one hand on the pommel, pausing briefly. "I want you to go back to Riften."

His head jerked up in surprise, and he frowned. "No," he replied, shaking his head adamantly. "I should stay here with you; you really shouldn't be left alone."

"I won't be alone," she mumbled curtly, wishing he understood just how very alone she wanted to be. "I'll have Serana here with me. I need someone to watch over the Guild, and I want you to do it."

"Indis, I don't think that I should—"

"Well," she snapped, whipping around to face him. "Unfortunately, I don't give a shit what you think. Go back to Riften, now."

"Indis, please—"

"Shut the fuck up, and just _go_. I want to be left alone."

His eyes widened in shock and his mouth opened as though he was on the cusp of speaking, but he quickly shut it. "Fine," he groaned, raising his hands defensively. "You want me to leave? I'll leave. I'll see you back in Riften."

* * *

After consulting Erandur on the matter, Teldryn had made the choice to share the truth with Aventus, deciding that he was old enough to hear why Indis wasn't with him. Even though he was only about fourteen, Aventus had been astute and observant enough to realize that something was wrong, was different. Teldryn had told him everything, sparing no details.

"Skooma?" Aventus asked, wrinkling his nose at Teldryn. "And lying? Is that it?"

"Well, there are other things," Teldryn admitted, choosing out to leave out the details of the more adventurous sexual lifestyle that he had found so infuriating. Aventus was mature, but not quite mature enough to hear about _that_. No one wanted that kind of detail about someone they saw as a mother figure.

"So… she wasn't doing so well," Aventus said slowly, mulling carefully over his words as he processed everything the Dunmer man had just told him. He gave a quick glance at Erandur, who was sitting quietly in the room's corner chair. "You left Ma, and you told her not to come back," he continued, trailing off into a tense silence. Teldryn attempted to speak, but Aventus cut him off. "You just left her when she needed you the most. You just _left_ her."

"Aventus, you have to understand that—"

"Understand what? I understand perfectly that you just abandoned someone that you said you loved when they were in trouble. You don't do that, especially to people you love, especially when they're in trouble. Y-you don't love her," he sputtered tearfully, brushing past Teldryn towards Riftweald's exit. "You are an asshole."

Teldryn attempted to reach out and grab his arm to stop him, but Aventus jerked away, shooting one final, sullen glare over his shoulder as he stormed away towards his bedroom. The door slammed shut, and Teldryn slouched down in the chair next to Erandur. "I thought I did the right thing," he groaned, running a hand over his face, pausing to scratch at his stubble. "I was certain that I did what was best for everyone. I thought it'd be best if I gave her some time to fix all of these issues."

"Everyone except for Indis, perhaps," Erandur replied calmly, ignoring the glare that Teldryn launched in his direction. "Poor girl is an absolute mess and you've almost certainly made her much, much worse. I'm sure she'll learn to manage without you, though. She's stronger than she thinks, and I'm certain that once she manages to pull herself together, she'll find someone else. Probably Brynjolf. He's a good man."

Teldryn's head jerked up and he fixed the priest with a scowl, knowing full well that his brother was goading him, attempting to make him feel guilty for the way he had handled everything. It was most definitely working. "She'll be back; she just has to take care of some things."

"Aventus was right, you know. It usually isn't helpful to abandon people you love when they're obviously crying for help."

"You don't think I know that?" Teldryn sighed, reaching up to absentmindedly flick at a small piece of bread lying on the table. "As soon as she comes back to Riften, we'll get this all sorted out, and we'll fix things. _Together_."

"You had best prepare yourself for the possibility that she won't be back, brother, especially after what you said to her."

"She'll be back; she just needs time to herself, as do I. After she returns, we'll talk more. She forgave me after what I said to her before she left, and given some time, I'm certain she'll forgive me now."

Erandur gave him a small, wry smile as he shook his head. "Keep telling yourself that. Perhaps it will come true."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short! I just wanted everything in the next chapter to kind of stand on its own, without any of this Indis and Teldryn drama. The other half is done, but there are some things that I want to tweak and probably rewrite, so that should be up in a few days._

_Let's take a vote! Who's right: Erandur or Teldryn?_


	31. Fire in the Blood

Contrary to what most people believed, Indis Mero wasn't totally sightless in her right eye.

The blow from the glass bottle that Rolff Stone-Fist had brought down on her face had rendered it a bright, milky white, but it wasn't entirely unseeing. She couldn't see out of it nearly as well as she had before the attack, but she still saw blurred, fuzzy shapes just fine. Everyone had just assumed that it was completely blind, and she let them.

Currently, she was sitting at the long, ornately carved table that was found in Lakeview's main hall, her left eye focused on one of the books that Arngeir had sent with her, her right spying on the two blurry blobs that were Stenvar and Serana whispering, most certainly about her. They had gotten worse since Brynjolf had left, and Indis had grown tired of their simpering, sickly smiles and their soft, overly concerned voices as they constantly asked her if she needed anything.

"I can hear you two morons," Indis finally said, snapping her book shut as she turned towards them. "I can also see you, too."

"Indis, we're just concerned, that's all," Serana offered hopefully, her bright orange-red eyes watching the tiny Imperial intently. "You've just been sitting around sulking, you haven't been eating, you haven't been bathing… you must understand where we're coming from. We're worried about you."

Indis stood, nearly tripping over the wooden bench as she clambered over, shoving her book underneath one arm as she stood. "You want me to eat? Fine, I'll eat," she snapped, scooping up a pair of large pies from the table. "I'm going outside, and I want to be left alone," she added pointedly, tossing one final glare over her shoulder before storming up the steps that led to the back patio. Her pie-filled hands struggled with the door handle, her mind pushing aside the thought of calling for help, and after a few seconds, it the knob twisted open and she stepped through, pleased when a gust of wind shut it behind her.

She settled down at the table outside, not bothering to wipe away the muck and wet leaves that coated the bench, immediately regretting that decision once she had taken a seat and cold water soaked in through her trousers.

"Fuck," she muttered, realizing that she hadn't brought a fork or a spoon with her. After giving a shrug of indifference, she pulled the snowberry pie towards her, digging in with her bare hands. She took bite after bite, shoveling large chunks of pie into her mouth, not caring that large pieces of the sweet, gooey substance were ending up in her lap and smeared all over her face. The snapping of a twig jerked her out of her stupor, and she lowered her hands, looking for the source of the sound.

"Serana? Stenvar? I told you that I wanted to be left alone," she called out, turning back to her food, ignoring the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Don' know who those folks are, but we sure aren't them," replied a deep, booming voice that sent a chill racing down her spine. "I wouldn't call for 'em either, if I were you."

Indis whipped around, heart beginning to pound rapidly in her chest when she saw five massive, hulking Orismer bandits behind her, the group slowly fanning out to surround her. She quickly climbed up onto the table, one hand still tightly gripping her pie. Her empty, quaking hand shot to her hip, and she felt her stomach begin to twist nervously when she realized that her blade was missing. She was weaponless.

"How much do you think we can ransom this one for?" growled one of the others, looking at the man that had first spoken, the one she assumed was their chief. "Whoever owns this place must be filthy fuckin' rich, and she's a pretty little thing. I'd definitely pay to get her back."

"True," the chief replied, baring his tusks at her as he looked her up and down, grimacing when he saw the food all over her face and shirt. "She's a good one, even if she is a bit grimy."

"Stay away from me," she hissed, voice wavering as she flung what remained of her pie at the bandit chief. It fell to the ground in front of him with a pathetic splatter, sending chunks of snowberry pie all over his steel boots. "I'll kill you, I will! You'd best watch out!"

They laughed, obviously amused at how terrified and defenseless she was, and as the circle of Orc bandits tightened around her, her breathing increasing, her heart pounded a frenzied rhythm against her ribcage, and much to her surprise, her vision began to go red.

All of a sudden, her skin began to itch, to burn and without thinking; her hands flew to her bare flesh, frantically clawing at it as she tried to stop the intense stinging sensation. Looking down, her eyes widened as she watched the flesh of her skin ripple and twitch as the muscles expanded below. The bandits that had been approaching had stopped dead in their tracks, watching in shock as she collapsed to the table, grunting and moaning as she contorted and writhed in pain.

"Is this some kind of trick? What's she doing? I don't get it," one of them mumbled, reaching up to scratch at his shaved head in confusion, and his comrades shrugged to express their confusion as well. They continued to observe as she continued to shiver and shake, the crunching and grinding sounds of her bones expanding, reworking themselves penetrating the air. She howled as white-hot pain shot through her body, clumps of white and brown fur cropping up all over her now much, much larger form, screaming as her face expanded, and an elongated snout formed and razors-sharp claws shot out of the tips of what were now clearly paws.

By the time they realized what was happening, and had begun to shuffle backwards in horror, it was too late. Her first shift was complete. She staggered to her feet, flexing her clawed hands before letting out an unsettling, bloodcurdling roar.

As the group of bandits attempted to flee, quickly deciding that a werewolf was not something that they wanted to contend with, she bounded off of the table, landing in front of the one that had gotten trapped between her and the wooden railing of the patio with a snarl. He was wearing simple fur armor, and she quickly found herself swinging her arms, claws slashing through the almost useless garb with a beautiful ease. After one final swipe, the flesh of his stomach was torn open, the bright red entrails spilling out towards the ground. He collapsed to the ground, somehow still alive as she leaned down, ready to devour his body's offering, when the dull, angry thud of an axe planting itself in her side called her attention away from what would be her meal.

The Orc chief jerked his weapon out, ignoring her angry howls of pain as she whipped around, snarling as she advanced on all fours towards him. The rest of the bandits had fled by this point, but the chief had remained to fight her and he was backing away, tightly gripping the war axe clenched tightly in his hands.

"Come on, fight me you foul beast," he growled, raising the weapon over his head, ready to bring it down in a killing blow as she lunged forward.

He was too slow. Her jaws clamped down around his throat, and he gave a loud, choked gurgle as her head jerked back, tearing his windpipe from his neck. His body collapsed to the ground, and she settled back on her haunches, contentedly gnawing on her reward.

* * *

"What's going on out there?" Stenvar asked, jerking his head towards the back of the manor, furrowing his brow in concern as he and Serana listened to the loud crashes and muffled yells that came from the back patio.

The vampire looked up, giving a weary shrug as she sighed. "It's probably Indis, throwing one of her bizarre little tantrums. Or, she's regretting eating both of those pies right about now. "

"Still, I think I'm going to go check, if only to make sure that she hasn't torn anything apart back there," he groaned as he stood up, setting off towards the set of doors that let outside. She was tiny, but he had heard stories of her rampages from Teldryn, so he wasn't entirely sure what he should expect. He flung the door open after twisting the knob, sighing as he stepped outside.

"Indis, we heard a bunch of…," he trailed off, mouth dropping open at the sight before him.

There was blood smeared all over the weathered wood of the table and the patio, various torn apart entrails were strewn about, and the clothing that Indis had been wearing was lying on top of the table in shreds. He instinctively reached for the warhammer on his back, eyes narrowing intently as he continued to survey the gory scene he had stumbled upon. There was one body lying next to the table, its chest cavity torn apart, several of the organs within half-eaten. A loud smacking sound caught his attention, and he turned, eyes falling on what appeared to be a massive wolf-like creature gnawing on a heart freshly torn from the Orismer the wolf was crouched on.

"Hey! You killed Indis!" he called out, and the creature jerked its head up, bright silver eyes meeting his own as it finished devouring the heart. It stood on its hind legs, gangly arms dangling in front of it as the wolf inspected him, tiny droplets of blood dripping off of its snout, splattering onto the wooden planks below. As Stenvar began to approach, the creature backed away, letting out one final howl before bounding away into the pine forest.

Letting out a long groan, he sheathed his weapon, retreating back into the safety of Lakeview, shooting one final worried glance back at the pile of shredded clothes resting on top of the table. He made his way back to Serana, who was still sitting calmly on a chair, engrossed in a book.

"Indis was gone, there was some kind of attack, I don't know, blood everywhere, big fuckin' wolf thing was out there," he gasped, words awkwardly spilling from his mouth. "I think it got her, I don't know, I think she's dead, it probably ate her, just like the others."

She looked up at him in surprise, tossing her book aside. "What do you mean, 'big fuckin' wolf thing'?"

"I don't know," he replied, gesturing wildly, his face flushed from excitement and worry. "It looked like a wolf, but it was bigger. It didn't look quite right either. Walked on its back legs and it was bigger than every other wolf I've seen around here. I scared it off, though," he added proudly, planting his hands firmly on his hips.

Serana groaned, trying to stifle worried, nervous laughter as she stood. "That was a werewolf, Stenvar."

"A werewolf?" he asked dubiously, frowning slightly as he considered the possibility. "I've heard stories, but I never thought that they were real. So, it… it was a werewolf that ate Indis, then? We've gotta go find the body. Gods, Teldryn's gonna be fuckin' torn up after he hears she was shredded apart by a beast like that, especially after the way they parted."

"No, no. Indis isn't dead, that _was_ Indis," Serana replied, dusting off her armor.

"Indis is a werewolf? When'd that happen?"

"Recently, I think. I trust you can keep this quiet, Stenvar. Now, you said she ran off?" she asked, letting out a loud, exasperated sigh once he had nodded. "I'm going to pack things up and go and see if I can find her. You clean up the mess she left behind here, and I'll go find her to make sure she doesn't make any more."

* * *

As soon as her eyes fluttered open, the first thing Indis noticed was just how clear, crisp and bright everything was. She turned her head to the side slightly, the loud, grating chiming of a nearby piece of nirnroot capturing her attention. The green glow of the plant seemed brighter and more vivid, and out of curiosity, she clenched her left eye shut, surprised that she could see out of her right one once more. Her head was pounding, and after giving an irritated grunt, she ripped the piece of nirnroot to silence it, clutching it to her chest after it had been uprooted.

Rolling onto her side, she groaned as she pushed up with one arm, tight, aching muscles screaming in protest as she settled into a sitting position. She was underneath what appeared to be a stone bridge, the cool water flowing underneath splashing against her bare legs, and she was horrified to find that she was completely naked. Dragging herself back over to the water, she looked down, astonished at what she saw.

The creamy white color that had clouded her right eye was completely gone, and it appeared to be a normal eye again the same as the other, save for the bright silver color that her eyes were now. For the first time in over a week, she smiled, and she managed to tear her attention away from her eyes, grimacing when she saw her matted hair and the dried blood that caked her body.

"Oh, good, you're finally awake," called out a deep voice, and Indis gave a tiny shriek, attempting to use the nirnroot she had pulled out of the ground as a means of covering herself. "Whoa, whoa… don't worry, I won't look," he continued, and she looked up, surprised to see a very familiar-looking man shielding his eyes as he settled down next to her, turning away to rummage in his pack. "I found you all bloody and unconscious next to the river, and moved you over here. Hope ya don't mind. Didn't want any of the guards to see ya, they usually haul people passed out to the jail."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, her mind furiously working to recall where she knew him from. All of a sudden, memories of a Companion showing up in Riften to 'teach her a lesson' by way of beating her into unconsciousness came flooding back. "Vilkas," she hissed angrily, mustering up all of her strength to swing her fists at him, pounding on his steel-clad back.

He turned around, surprised, raising his hands to gently stop her. "I think you've got the wrong one," he chuckled, trying to avert his eyes from the bare chest that her hands were no longer covering. "I'm Farkas. It's an easy mistake to make, though, considering that we're twins," he continued good-naturedly, holding out a lump of soap. "If you get cleaned up, we can talk."

* * *

With her aching, tired muscles, and limbs that didn't seem to want to cooperate, bathing had proved to be a difficult, arduous task. The man who claimed he wasn't Vilkas had left her underneath the bridge alone, and for nearly an hour, she had slowly scrubbed away most of the grime and filth that covered her body. She slowly raised her arms and set to work on her hair, cringing when she realized that this was the first time she had bathed since Teldryn had left. She paused to watch as the last of the blood, dirt, and dark brown hair dye vanished in the river water, groaning as she tried to stand. Her weak, exhausted legs buckled underneath her and she cursed loudly as she came crashing back down. She quickly became even more frustrated when a pair of strong hands wrapped a cloak around her and scooped her up, carrying her out from under the bridge.

"This was your first shift, wasn't it? You've just got that look to ya," Farkas said, setting her down next to a fire before settling down and pulling a piece of bread out of his pack. "The first time is always the worst. I've heard that if you're unlucky, you can completely lose yourself then, or even worse, just die. Of course, that can happen any time if you're not careful."

"Wait," Indis said, squinting at him in the dim orange glow of the firelight, letting out a tiny little gasp when she realized that he had the same silver-grey eyes as she did. "Your eyes, they're like mine!"

"Oh, yeah," he mumbled in between bites of bread, reaching up to brush away the crumbs that had collected in his stubble. "It's one of those things that will happen after your first shift. It's one easy way to tell another werewolf," he said, pausing to give her an unsettlingly wolfish grin. "So, how'd you get turned?"

She paused, letting out a little sigh as she thought of the man with the stag head. "Hircine," she finally replied, not caring if he actually believed her.

He looked at her curiously before letting out a short, barking laugh. "Hircine, huh? You're funny. I like you."

"How about you?" she asked, ignoring his laughter as she let the cloak slip from her shoulders, turning to inspect the fresh scar that adorned her side, running the tip of one finger over the raised, jagged line of flesh. It was a remnant of her first fight as a werewolf, and she was pleasantly surprised that the wound from an axe to the side had healed up so nicely. Naturally, too. "How did you become a werewolf?"

"Well, I got the beast blood when I joined the Circle in the Companions. It's required if ya want to," Farkas replied, letting out a sigh. "Damn. I probably shouldn't have said anything about that. You can keep a secret, can't you?" he asked, not failing to notice that her chest was uncovered once more, something that she didn't seem to be bothered by. All of a sudden, his steel armor became incredibly, unbearably hot and uncomfortable.

"Of course I can keep a secret," she mumbled disinterestedly, letting out a long yawn. "How long have you been a werewolf? What's it like?"

He furrowed his brow in concentration as he collected his thoughts, gazing at the popping, crackling fire as a long silence stretched in between them. "It's been a long time now," he said quietly, shifting so that he was sitting cross-legged. "It's been over a decade since I took the blood. As for your other question, I s'pose I'm not really sure what to say about that. Some days are easier than others, and it's just somethin' that you learn as you go."

Indis scowled at him, folding her arms over her chest. "That is incredibly vague and unhelpful," she sighed, uncertain of what his cryptic response actually meant.

"Well," he replied gruffly, reaching back to awkwardly scratch at the nape of his neck. "It's hard to explain. It's different for everyone, but if you ever need any help, or you have any questions, you can find me up in Jorrvaskr," he continued, giving her what appeared to be a genuinely kind smile.

"No, you're going to have to tell me something more than that. Come on, just tell me something! The first things that come to mind," she insisted, clumsily attempting to pull the cloak around her shoulders as she stood, making her way over towards him. "Just tell me. Anything. I'm new to this."

After a few seconds of thought, he took a deep breath before launching into a long list, anything and everything he could think of spilling out. "Well, when you first turn, it'll be harder to control, but once you recognize what gets ya going, it's not so bad. You won't be able to get a decent night's rest, the beast blood just keeps you tossing and turning. Oh, and don't wear anything that you're too fond of, especially at first. It'll get torn apart, that's why you've got nothin' on right now. Injuries heal up faster, too. Even more so when you're a beast, and it means you can survive some tough shit. It doesn't mean that you can grow back an arm or a leg, or nothin', but you'll be able to heal injuries pretty fast. The smell and sight of blood is gonna drive you crazy at first, so be ready for that. It's not all bad, though, ya hear better, smell better, see better, taste better," he said, pausing when he noticed the strange glint in her eye, looking away when a warm flush crept into his cheeks.

"Is… everything better?" she asked, her voice becoming low and husky, a pair of fingers reaching out to dance up the bare flesh of his arm. Thoughts of forgetting Teldryn flooded her mind, and Farkas was kind, handsome, and to her, he was an ideal candidate. "I can think of something I'd like to try out right now."

He cleared his throat, gently pulling away, choosing to change the subject entirely. "Meat," he said finally, coughing to clear his throat. Her fingers were still massaging his arm, and he was trying to ignore the fact that she was still very, incredibly naked. "You won't ever get over how good it tastes now. Of course, when it's gone rotten, you won't even want to touch the stuff," continued, taking a swig of the mead he had just opened.

"Oh, I think you have some meat I'd like to try."

Farkas choked on his mead, fine droplets of the liquid misting out in front of him as he coughed and sputtered. "You know? I don't think I ever caught your name."

"Indis," she replied, cozying up even closer. "My name is Indis."

He opened his mouth to respond, but before the words could spill out, she had reached up to quickly grab his head and turn it towards hers, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. He grunted in surprise, but made no attempt to stop her as her lips moved against his, finally jerking away in surprise when he felt her hands drift downwards towards the straps and buckles that held his armor in place.

"Sorry, we probably shouldn't be doing that," he mumbled, squirming away from her as best he could, not going too far because of the heavy armor he wore. "Not that I don't think you're pretty, or nice, but we don't know each other. You must be exhausted," he continued, feeling a tiny pang of guilt when he saw the sad little scrunched up face she made, trying to ignore it as he turned towards his knapsack. He rifled around in it for a few seconds, emerging with a few stamina potions. "Here, drink these. You're probably still pretty tired. Now, we should get some rest."

* * *

Indis had planned on moping in a stew of displeasure and unhappiness after Farkas rejected her advances, but as soon as her head hit the lumpy little pillow of the bedroll he offered her, she soon slipped away into a deep, dreamless slumber, only awakening when the first rays of morning light hit her face. She sat up, letting out a loud yawn, rubbing at her eyes before stretching as she inspected the large city their camp was close to.

"What? That's Whiterun," she said in surprised, moving to roll up the long, floppy sleeves of the massive shirt that Farkas had lent her. _Did I really come all this way from Falkreath?_

He blinked sleepily at her a few times, letting out a long exhale before he clambered to his feet with a series of grunts. "Yeah, that's Whiterun. You sound surprised," he replied, bending over to pack the cloak he had used as a makeshift bedroll.

"I suppose," she said as she stood up, relieved that her legs were no longer weak, wobbly, and in danger of giving out beneath her. A night full of deep sleep and a couple of downed stamina potions seemed to do her a world of wonder. "I was just at home in Falkreath when I shifted, that's all."

"Come on, we should get going before the sun gets any higher and it gets too hot out."

She trotted off after him, tiny feet breaking into a short jog as she caught up to him, struggling to maintain the quick pace that he had set. They travelled in silence for several minutes until he finally spoke. "How'd it happen, anyway? Your first shift, I mean. There's usually somethin' that sets it off."

Indis gnawed on her lip thoughtfully, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "There were bandits. Big ones, huge Orismer men," she said finally, twirling the strand of white hair hair around the tip of one slim finger. "I didn't have my weapon on me, and I just… just panicked, I suppose. I was terrified. I changed, and by the Divines, did it fucking hurt! Most of them ran, but I killed two of them. I just tore them apart," she added, feeling the strangest flutter inside when the foggy memory of shredding their bodies flooded her memory. "How about you? What was your first shift like?"

"Well, I drank the blood of my forebear, and I shifted right after that. I don't remember it all too well, but from what I was told, I tore through Whiterun and I woke up somewhere north in the Pale. I was told that my transformation was a pretty easy one."

"Easy? What can make them difficult?"

"Well, for starters, you could just die. It's rough on your body, bones reworkin' themselves, completely changin' your shape. Some don't make it. Or, you could just get lost to the beast, never become human again," he said, shuddering when he recalled the tale of a fellow companion that had to be slaughtered once they lost themselves. He had fallen silent, but her next question jerked him out of his stupor.

"Does what always happen?"

"The forgetting everything that happens."

He shook his head. "Not always. Sometimes, the beast just takes over, and you'll wake up lyin' naked in a ditch, unable to remember what happened the night before. Though, if you learn to control it, it isn't always so bad. I don't shift anymore, though."

She furrowed her brow, already beginning to grow weary from the walking. "Why not?"

"It's complicated," he sighed, reaching up to wipe always the beads of sweat that had collected on his brow.

"I-I can remember killing those bandits, and I can remember when my friend Stenvar came out to see what was going on, I can remember knowing that I shouldn't hurt him, but after that… well, I don't remember anything."

"The beast probably took over then," he replied, giving a quick nod and smile to the pair of guards that stood at Whiterun's gate. He chose to not tell her about what possibility could have happened during that period lost to her memory. "It happens. You know, if you need a place to stay, there's the Bannered Mare. Or, I've got a bed in Jorrvaskr. Well, what I meant to say was that there are plenty of beds in Jorrvaskr, and you could stay there if you wanted," he corrected, fumbling over his words.

She gave him a weary smile and then shook her head, gesturing to the cozy little house that was next to Warmaiden's. "Thank you for the offer, but I actually own Breezehome."

"Oh, well then," he replied, awkwardly extending a hand out to her, which she gave a limp, gentle shake to. "It was a pleasure, Indis. If you ever have any questions, come up there and see me," he said, pointing to the massive boat-like structure next to Dragonsreach. "Or just come and visit. It'd be nice to see you again."

* * *

Indis slouched down in one of the chairs in the main sitting area of Breezehome, letting out a groan as she kicked off her boots. "Lydia? Are you here?" she called out, enjoying the warmth cast off by the flames of the roaring fire in the fire pit.

There was the sound of a doorknob clicking open, and footsteps shuffling down the stairs. Before she could respond, her housecarl Lydia had enveloped her in a tight, suffocating embrace from behind. "My Thane! You're back! It's been far too long, and it had been a while since your last letter, so I thought that something had happened," Lydia gushed excitedly, letting Indis go before she helped Indis up. "You look tired, come on upstairs! The bed's all made up."

"I am tired," Indis admitted, surprised at the ache and tiny twitches that plagued her muscles. She had become accustomed to riding Horse or taking a carriage everywhere, so even a short, but brisk, walk to Whiterun proved to be exhausting.

"I can also draw up a bath, if you want. Do you want me to?" Lydia asked, throwing open the door to the main bedroom.

Indis stepped inside, leaning against the nearby wall with a sigh. Breezehome was most definitely cozy and cramped, but it was easily her favorite home. A tiny smile ghosted across her lips as her eyes surveyed the room, but she suddenly froze when an object resting on the nearby dresser, the smile disappearing as quickly as it had come.

It was Teldryn's hideous chitin helmet, the little bug-eyed goggles boring into her from its resting place. She had convinced him to wear other armor that didn't make him look like a little mudcrab, and she had forgotten that he had abandoned the helm in Whiterun. Without thinking, she snatched it off of the dresser and threw it as hard as she could into the nearby corner. It hit the wall before tumbling to the ground with a dull clatter and she flung herself onto the bed, fighting back the tears that were in danger of spilling over.

"Oh," Lydia said softly, eyes widening as they darted back and forth between the quaking little Imperial and the helm with the now shattered goggles. She had been curious as to why Teldryn wasn't with her, and was ready to ask, but the little display told her everything she needed to know. "There, there. It'll all work out," she offered hopefully, sitting down on the edge of the bed, gently resting her palm on Indis' shoulder.

Indis turned around, looking at her suspiciously with bleary, bloodshot eyes. "No, no it won't. He fucking hates me."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Yes he does."

"You know what you need?"

"To get drunk."

* * *

Indis threw the bottle on the ground, laughing as it shattered, the tiniest bit of leftover Argonian Bloodwine seeping into the cracks of the paved stone below. She slung an arm around a red-faced, giggling Lydia, grasping for a fresh bottle resting in the crate of wine that she had stolen from the Bannered Mare. Popping the cork out, she raised it to her lips, gulping some down before speaking.

"Can ya belief it, Lydia?" she slurred, clumsily raising a hand to wipe off the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. "He just fuckin' tells me how fuckin' horrible I am, and then he fuckin' leaves and tells me to fuck off until I'm better. Better," she continued, clumsily waving one hand dismissively. "What th' fuck does that even mean? Pfft, better. It doesn't mean anythin'."

"Dunno. Wh-what an asshole," Lydia replied, nodding in agreement, her brow furrowed angrily. "We should fuck 'im up."

"How?"

"Like, his face. We should fuck up 'is face. That'll teach 'im to be an ass."

Indis shook her head, looking horrified. "No, not his face! I don't… don't want to fuck 'im up. I love 'im, Lydia. Even if he doesn't love me, I still love him."

Lydia opened her mouth to respond, but an oily voice from nearby interrupted them. They both looked up, letting out groans of despair when they saw that it was Nazeem, Whiterun's resident intolerable asshole.

"Look at this pair of swine," he said, his lip curling upwards in a sneer as he looked down at them, placing his hands on his hips while he surveyed them with his holier-than-thou gaze. "Getting drunk in public, like the absolutely disgusting vermin that they are. I'm glad that you haven't dragged your pathetic selves to the Cloud District, although, I should probably tell Jarl Balgruuf about this. This isn't the kind of filth that Whiterun needs."

Indis had never cared for Nazeem, and as he kept talking and insulting them, she could hear the loud _whoosh_ of blood rushing to her ears, and as the rude sod in front of her kept talking, her vision began to swim and go red.

She knew what was happening, but she found herself unable to stop it.

* * *

_Tap. Tap. Tappity-tap._

Someone was rapping on something metal, and the erratic, irregular tapping sound irritated Indis' already throbbing head. She rolled over wearily, taking stock of what surrounded her, surprised to see that she was sitting inside of a dark, dank jail cell with Lydia as a cellmate. Clambering out of the rotting cot that the cell provided, she stood, turning towards her housecarl.

"What happened?" she asked groggily, and an incredibly somber looking Lydia simply looked away from her, casting her eyes downward. She refused to meet Indis' gaze, doing her best to avoid making eye contact.

"Indis," called out a soft voice, and she turned, sighing with relief when she saw Serana standing on the opposite side of the cell bars. "You… you don't remember anything? Nothing at all?"

After the Imperial shook her head, Lydia and Serana exchanged dark glances. Serana took a deep breath and continued. "After I figured out what happened at Lakeview, I came as quickly as I could to see if I could catch up with you. I wanted to make sure that you didn't shift again, but I… I was too late. I'm sorry. Gods, I'm so sorry."

"What happened? Did I shift again?"

"You did," Lydia interjected dully, finally looking up at Indis sadly. "I didn't know you were a werewolf, and I guess the rest of Whiterun knows as well. Everyone just started attacking you, and I was trying to protect you since you're my Thane a-and I ended up killing a guard to protect you."

"An-and what did I do?" Indis whispered, already dreading the response. "Did I kill anyone?"

Lydia and Serana exchanged another glance, and the vampire gnawed on her lip for a few seconds before replying. "Yes, you did. There was a man, what was his name… Nazeem? A few guards, and…" she trailed off, reaching out to grip the bars that separated them. "There was one more, Indis."

"Tell me."

"There was a little boy outside playing, and he just got caught up in it, I'm not sure how. I think he wanted to see what was happening. His name was Lars Battle-Born. You killed him."

* * *

_A/N: Well, that was a depressing end to the chapter. Time to open a bottle of wine now. Next chapter, some hardcore consequences will go down, she'll be reunited with Balgruuf, and they'll finally make it to Ustengrav to get the damn horn for those damn Greybeards. Thanks to Mirage159 for the suggestion as to what would happen when she mixed up Farkas and Vilkas._

_For the next few chapters, things will definitely escalate quickly, but things will calm back down and the happy is gonna get all up in this story again. _


	32. Echoes

**TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM**

**[MUSICAL INSPIRATION: Neil Young's Greatest Hits album]**

* * *

The soft, bleary white-gold light of dawn filtered in through the tiny, barred window at the top of Indis' cell, signaling that yet another wretched day was about to begin. She sat up on her ragged cot, watching the dust motes lazily flit about in the rays of light and after a few quiet, sullen seconds of watching them drift towards the floor, she turned towards the nearby wall. Dragging one fingernail down the stone, she moved her hand back and forth until there was a thick, jagged line gouged in next to all of the others.

Two and a half months. Two and a half months of rotting inside of a cramped, dank jail cell with only her dark, despondent thoughts to keep her company. Lydia had been released after only a week after she had paid off her bounty, but Indis had remained under the watchful, angry eyes of the Whiterun guard since she had lost control. She raised her hand again, running it along the row of marks, silently counting. Two and a half months. She hadn't miscounted. It wasn't incredibly important that she kept counting, since she knew that there was a strong likelihood she'd never leave Whiterun alive. However, seeing the little scratches in stone, watching day after day pass her by, still alive, gave her just the faintest glimmer of hope.

Swinging her legs, she planted them as firmly as she could on the dirty floor and slowly rose to her feet before shuffling over towards the bucket of tepid water in the corner. The ceiling of her cell had a nasty leak that had created a mess upon her arrival. One of the guards had given her a tiny bucket to collect the water in, and she had taken to using the water inside it to wash off. She crouched down by it, and was ready to dip her hands in and scoop some out when a sharp rapping on the cell bars caught her attention.

"Your visitor is here," the guard called out, jerking his head towards the entrance of the dungeons. She stood, awkwardly holding her filthy trousers up as she slowly made her way towards the bars that separated her from everyone else.

"I need a rope, or a belt," she replied, motioning to her loose, sagging pants that defied any and all efforts to stay up on their own. "My trousers won't stay up."

The guard, a man she had learned was named Ulrek, shook his head, blonde hair slipping out of his topknot in the process. He didn't wear his helm in the dungeons; she had heard him tell another guard that it was too stuffy down there, so she could watch as he furrowed his brow in frustration. He backed away as she drew closer, one hand unconsciously flying to the weapon at his hip. He was afraid, and she could smell it on him. All of the guards were. She caught the way they refused to meet her eyes or come too close, heard their whispers of _monster_, the way they bickered over who had the misfortune of interacting with her.

Ulrek shook his head, reaching up to brush the stray strand of hair behind one big, bright red ear. "No," he said firmly, blue eyes calmly watching her as she began to pace back and forth, tiny feet sending splatters of mud all over his boots. He wondered if she would get as angry as she did when they took those things away from her, when she had gotten so furious that she had… changed. No matter how hard he tried, the angry, pained howls weren't something he could push out of his mind. Often he wondered if he would be doing her a kindness by slipping her a thick, sturdy rope when no one was looking. Despite these ponderings, he never did. "You know why you can't have those things anymore, prisoner."

Indis folded her arms over her chest, scowling at him as fiercely as she could. "I'm not going to do that again," she lied, giving him a dismissive wave. "I promise."

"Hmmph," he grunted at her, shaking his head. He turned to leave, giving her one final, sidelong pitying glance. His footsteps faded away into the distance, and she listened to their dull echoes against the stone, waiting patiently until he returned with Serana in tow. "Here she is. You don't have too long, so make it fast."

Serana watched Ulrek as he slowly stomped away, finally turning to Indis with a kind smile. "How are you holding up?"

Indis shrugged, smashing her face against the bars as she sullenly stared at Serana. "How do you think I'm doing?" she responded dully, silver eyes narrowing, waving one arm around wildly in a meaningless gesture. "I'm fucking terrific, just look at me. Look at how bloody fantastic I'm doing."

The vampire sighed, shaking her head, stopping when she noticed the plates of untouched food resting in the corner, flies greedily dancing around the slop that was supposed to be stew. "You need to eat," she said sternly. "You're going to starve to death."

"Good," Indis snapped before turning on her heel and collapsing back onto her cot, where she promptly curled up into a tiny ball. "Why can't you just let me? I deserve to."

"You don't, no matter what anyone else says, or what you might think," she sighed, reaching out to rest her hand on the top of Indis' head. She didn't have the heart to tell her that the Battle-Borns were out for blood, and likely wouldn't be satisfied until they witnessed what would be an unpleasant meeting between Indis and the executioner. That was something that Indis probably already knew, though. "You truly don't."

Indis stayed silent, and after another tiny sigh, Serana continued. "I could send for Teldryn, if you'd like," she said, knowing full well that would get her attention.

The small, grubby Imperial shook her head, shifting so that she was sitting cross-legged on the cot. "You can write to him after I'm dead, which will hopefully be soon," she said, casting her eyes downwards.

"He'd want to know. He _needs_ to know," Serana insisted, delicately wrapping her slim white fingers around the bars in front of her.

"No, he'd hate me. I… I don't want him to know about this. What would he even think of me?" she asked, already assuming that she knew the answer. "It'd be the same as everyone else, you know that. The general opinion is that I'm a vile monster and I deserve to die, correct?"

"No, you're not, and no it isn't," Serana replied, voice faltering slightly and she watched as Indis rolled her eyes, obviously unconvinced. This was a conversation that they'd had every single day, and she'd watched her friend deteriorate physically, mentally as she was consumed by guilt and self-hatred. Those horrible guards certainly weren't making things better for her, ensuring that they discussed her in loud, obnoxious tones. Their words of disgust, hatred and disdain always made it down to her cell.

She paused, running one hand through her matted, dirty white hair. "I have nightmares about him every night, you know."

"Teldryn?"

"No. Th-the little boy I killed," Indis replied softly, drawing her knees up to her chest. She knew his name. It was Lars Battle-Born, but whenever it reached the tip of her tongue, she found herself quickly swallowing it. She still hadn't actually spoken it out loud, and found herself with a lingering lump in her throat whenever she attempted to say it. "I-I see what happened, all of it, absolutely everything," she whispered, tucking a dirty strand of hair behind one ear, reaching up to wipe away the tears that had begun to flow. "Serana, I don't know how I can live with myself. I _can't_."

"You can, and you will," Serana said firmly, yet gently. "One day at a time, just like the rest of us who have done unspeakable things. I'm working on getting you an audience with the Jarl, and we'll find a way to sort this all out. We'll get you out of Whiterun," she continued, mustering up a smile. _Alive, hopefully._ She didn't want to say that she'd already been denied an audience with the Jarl multiple times, and that he had no interest in seeing her.

Indis simply stared silently at the wall, rubbing at her nose. It was bleeding again, likely from the skooma that Serana had smuggled in for her during visits. She had begged her companion enough and eventually, she had caved; slipping her a few tiny bottles every visit. She looked up at her friend, eyes raking over her face, taking in her bright, hopeful eyes and her genuinely kind smile. She appreciated her enthusiasm, she truly did. Not that it would make a difference. "Lydia. Where is she?"

Serana gave a polite, awkward cough. "She left right after she was released. I think she said that she had family in Markarth, and she would be going to stay with them," she said, choosing to leave out just how bitter and furious Indis' former housecarl had been as she packed up her meager amount of belongings in Breezehome, cursing her Thane's name the entire time. "I'm sorry she didn't come to see you before she left."

"I don't blame her. I wouldn't come to see me, either."

The dark-haired vampire opened her mouth to reply, but the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention, and her mouth quickly snapped shut. A quick glance down the hallway showed Ulrek marching down towards them, no doubt to inform that visiting time was over, and she quickly fumbled around in her pocket, pulling out a handful of lockpicks. "Here," she whispered, pressing the slender picks into Indis' hand that she had grabbed, wrapping her friend's fingers around them. "Take them just in case things don't go so well. I have someone to go and meet with. I'll see you soon, Indis."

* * *

It had been months since Olfrid Battle-Born, among countless other citizens of Whiterun, had stormed into Dragonsreach demanding justice for the deaths that a werewolf had caused. A _werewolf_ had torn apart several citizens of Whiterun in broad daylight, something that many still had trouble wrapping their heads around. Jarl Balgruuf had promised them justice; he had promised them that the head of the one responsible would roll off of the executioner's chopping block. He had been so firm, so resolved, and so ready to dispense justice. At least until the accused's name rolled off of Proventus' lips.

_Indis Mero._

He hadn't believed what everyone had told him once there was a name put to the ruthless, brutal attack. He didn't _want_ to believe what anyone had told him, and for almost three months, he had wrapped himself up in a cocoon of obliviousness. He brushed aside what had needed to be done because of his own personal feelings, and he had ignored the stories of the violent, aggressive, mean little Imperial prisoner that drifted up from the guard barracks.

It had taken him three months to muster up courage, desire, or whatever emotion it was that he felt was necessary to finally go and see her. He pulled open the door to the dungeons, shaking his head as he passed by a snoozing guard. _All the way at the end. She's in that cell_, Balgruuf silently thought to himself as he walked past cell after cell, finally arriving at his destination.

The dim, flickering light from the nearby torch sconces and the meager amount of light filtering in through the tiny cell window was enough to give him a clear view of the prisoner inside. He leaned against the bars and groaned.

She was asleep, stretched out languidly on the sagging cot inside, one arm carelessly flung off the side. Her stark-white hair was splayed out across the dirty fabric in dirty, greasy clumps, her face was covered in dirt and grime, and he could see her sunken features and sallow cheekbones. He wasn't entirely sure why he had come, most likely to confirm what others had told him, because now that he was standing in front of her, he wasn't entirely sure what to say.

A guard in the distance dropped something, a tankard, a platter, it made no matter what it actually was, but the loud clatter echoed throughout the silent chamber. He watched as her eyes slowly fluttered open and she rubbed at them groggily, searching for the source of the noise as she sat up. She slowly scanned her cell, bleary eyes stopping when they arrived at him, and he watched as they slowly widened in surprise.

"Balgruuf?" she said hoarsely, quickly climbing off of her tiny bed.

He remained silent, two, quiet words finally slipping out. "Gods, Indis," he whispered, slowly backing away, shaking his head as he distanced himself from her.

They were the only words he could manage to utter, but the shock, disappointment, and disgust on his face remained with her long after he had left.

* * *

Serana reached up to delicately adjust her hood, pulling it down further over her face, wishing that the thin, black leather afforded more protection from the midday sun. The barren branches of the Gildergreen offered her a little more security from the bright sunlight that stung and often left her wincing, but it was still rather unpleasant.

"Sorry I'm late," called out a voice, and Serana looked up, relieved to see Nelkir, the youngest of Jarl Balgruuf's children bounding towards her. She had met the dark-haired boy purely by chance, and once she had learned that he was just as upset and distraught over what happened with Indis, he was easily befriended. He sat down on the bench next to her, and after a pair of semi-furtive glances over each shoulder; he pulled a heap of crumpled papers out from underneath his shirt.

"I wrote down everything I heard, just like you asked," he continued, his voice a low, hushed enthusiastic whisper. Serana let out a tiny laugh, amused by how eager and excited he was by all of this spying and eavesdropping. "I heard lots of interesting things, too."

"Did you now…," Serana trailed off, gingerly unfolding what he had handed off to her, the tip of one slim finger running along the messy, sloppy script. It paused, tapping at one particularly unreadable word. "This. What does it say?"

"Solitude," he replied, leaning over to see what she was pointing to. He liked Serana. She didn't treat him like a child like everyone else did, and every time he met with her to pass off information about her friend, he couldn't help but feel a little important.

"My father was thinking of writing to Jarl Elisif or General Tullius to see if they knew what to do. I don't think he wants to have anything to do with this," he continued, reaching up to brush away a leaf that had somehow found its way to his shoulder. "He wants to let Jarl Elisif or General Tullius handle it, because he said that they can't really kill the Dragonborn. Is Thane Indis really Dragonborn?" he asked quietly, eagerly shifting back and forth on the bench as he waited for his answer.

After a nearby guard had passed by, Serana gave a quick nod. "She is. Now, Solitude. Why does he want to send her to Elisif or Tullius?"

"Because they're higher-ranking than him," Nelkir stated matter-of-factly, folding his arms over his chest. "He said that they should be the ones to deal with this. Proventus said that it wouldn't matter, that they wouldn't accept it. He said it was Whiterun's problem, and that even if Elisif or Tullius agreed to get involved, she'd still ended up getting beheaded, Dragonborn or not. It'd just happen in Solitude instead of here in Whiterun."

Serana bit her lip, reaching upwards to run her fingers through her hair. "He's probably right. It wouldn't make a difference at all. It would just delay execution, instead of preventing it. Did you happen to hear when this business with Solitude might be happening?"

"He already sent letters. Yesterday, I think. I think that's what I heard."

"Shit," Serana muttered, quickly folding all of the scribbling from his eavesdropping sessions back up, shoving the papers underneath her arm. "We need to do something _now_."

At the mention of that short little word that suggested that he would be included in whatever plan she was concocting, his eyes lit up, and he scooted closer on the bench. "What are we going to do? Are we going to help her escape?"

"_We_ aren't going to do anything," the vampire replied, sighing when she saw his face fall. "Fine, fine. You can help, but I'm not going to be held responsible if you get into any sort of trouble. Understand?"

Nelkir let out a haughty sniff and rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to get into any trouble, so you don't have to worry about that. Besides, you need my help."

"Oh, really? What makes you so certain of that?"

"I know all of the rotation schedules for the guards. I know how to get down to the dungeons without being seen," he flatly stated, hoping that she let him come along. He knew Dagny and Frodnar's plans for the evening, and while tormenting their father's court mage had a definite appeal, a helping a werewolf escape from jail was infinitely more thrilling. "Please? Please, will you just let me help?"

"Fine," Serana huffed, adjusting her hood as she rose to her feet. "Now come on, we've got a lot of work to get done before nightfall."

* * *

"Take his clothes," Serana commanded, pointing Nelkir towards the now unconscious guard that was slumped over in the chair near the entrance of the Whiterun dungeons. She leaned against the nearby wall, watching as Nelkir relieved the guard of his uniform. He had proven himself to be a useful, valuable ally, and he had gotten them into the dungeons with no problem. She was just worried about getting out.

"Got 'em," he finally said, slinging the gold guard uniform over one shoulder, breaking into a lazy jog to catch up with her. "Are you going to use the same potion on Thane Indis?" he asked, flicking the potion-soaked clothing he carried in one hand towards the end of the hallway.

Serana shook her head. "No, I'm not. I thought it might look a tad bit suspicious to carry her out of here. That's what the uniform and this potion are for," she replied, shaking a tiny bottle at him. She stopped at the end of the row of cells, pleased to see that Indis was asleep. This would be much, much easier. After pouring the thick, pungent liquid out on a small rag that she had retrieved from her knapsack she reached through the bars, straining to read Indis' face. Her hand hovered above her nose, and after the slightest bit of trepidation, she pressed the cloth down hard. Indis' eyes flew open and she struggled briefly, but it was too late. She had already inhaled too deeply in her sleep, and the effects of the concoction she had breathed in were already beginning to take hold.

"Get up," Serana said, and she was pleased when Indis obliged and slowly shuffled her way towards the door to the cell. She inserted the key that Nelkir had swiped off one of the guards and inserted it with shaking hands, quickly pulling the door open once the lock had clicked open. "Put on the guard uniform that Nelkir has."

"Of course, of course," Indis mumbled airily, accepting what Nelkir offered her, quickly yanking it down over her dirty garb. "Anything you say, I'll do it."

"What did you give her?" Nelkir asked, eyes widening as he watched Indis latch onto Serana's arm. "Can I have the recipe?"

"It's a potion that makes someone highly suggestible, but unfortunately, it only lasts about an hour. And no, before you ask, you can't have the recipe. Come on. Indis, just act like a guard. You're going to tell anyone who ask that you're going out for patrol outside the city gates, but I want you to meet me at the stables. Understand?"

Indis nodded, smiling pleasantly as she slammed the sweaty helm down over her head as she meandered off towards the dungeon's entrance.

"Why didn't you just do this sooner?" Nelkir asked, his brow creasing in confusion as he watched Indis slowly amble away. "She's been in here for months. This was easy, so why didn't you help her escape before?"

"I wanted to see if there was a way to end her delightful stay in the Whiterun prison without execution, or an escape that would lead to an incredible bounty on her head," Serana explained, beckoning for him to come closer. "When it became clear that death one way or another was going to happen, I chose the option of helping her escape. Now, I just wanted to thank you for your help. I honestly couldn't have done it without you, and I trust you can keep quiet. Also, I want you to send me any more information you get. You know my name. Now, get out of here before someone catches you."

* * *

"Good, good," Indis heard Serana say, and her eyes slowly fluttered open, lids heavy as she turned towards her companion's voice. "You're finally awake. I'm sorry that I had to put you under like that, but it just made travelling easier."

Indis groaned as she sat up, rubbing at her throbbing temples. "Where am I?" she croaked, throat raw and dry. She was obviously inside of a tent, she knew that much, but as far as where that tent was located in Skyrim… she had no idea. "What happened?"

"I helped you escape from prison. Listen to me, please," Serana insisted, raising her hands defensively. "I know it wasn't what you wanted. I know you thought that you should just die in there, or you should have been executed for what happened, but I don't think so. What happened was terrible and horrible, and it's unfortunate, but I don't think it's your fault. I get the feeling that there's a lot at stake, there's a lot riding on you and I… I don't know how to describe it. It's just a feeling, and I know that probably doesn't satisfy you in any way at all. Or maybe it's just me being selfish, telling myself these things, because I need you around. I don't know."

Indis remained silent, simply staring at Serana. After a long, tense silence, the vampire reached over towards the messy, jumbled pile of their belongings in the corner, holding out a large, rolled up piece of parchment that she had retrieved. Indis reluctantly accepted it, her tiny hands slowly unrolling it, eyes quickly running over the contents of the poster. After what seemed like an age, she tossed it aside, burying her face in her hands.

"Fuck," she shakily muttered, contents of the wanted poster racing through her mind. Her name, along with a physical description that would make it easy to pick her out of a crowd, along with a list of her crimes against the citizens of Whiterun hold. "25,000 septims. That's a lot of gold."

"I know. I-I honestly didn't think it would be that much. You'll just have to be careful, that's all. I brought your armor, and that mask conceals your face quite well," Serana said, tossing Indis' Nightingale cowl at her. "This will all work out. You may just have to stay away from Whiterun for a while, and be careful in every other hold because I'm sure there are bounty hunters that would be more than happy to drag you back to Whiterun for _this_ amount of money. It'll all be fine, though. I _promise_. Just don't think about it. There's nothing you can do at this point."

The Imperial glared silently at her before she scrambled out of the bedroll, pushing past Serana as she threw open the flaps to the tent. She awkwardly clambered to her feet, surveying their surroundings. They were in the marshes of Hjaalmarch, a hold that she had never particularly cared for. There was something unsettling about the swamps, during day as well as night.

"We're at Ustengrav. That's the tomb of that, oh, gods… what was his name again?" Serana asked, surfacing from the comfort of the tent to join Indis out in the damp, chilly air of dawn. She hoped that changing the subject would help improve Indis' already sour mood.

"Jurgen Windcaller. He was the founder of the Greybeards. I'm supposed to bring the horn from his tomb," Indis stated flatly, eyes focusing on a nearby bunch of nightshade. "I don't really understand why."

"I'm sure they'll tell you once you return," Serana replied, gently placing on hand on Indis' shoulder, slowly guiding her back towards their tent. "Now, you should get changed. You've got a horn to get."

* * *

"These bandits were here when we arrived. A necromancer, too," Serana said, motioning to the bloody bodies strewn about Ustengrav's exterior, taking care to step over the one that was dangling off the steps. She glanced about before slowly pulling open the door that led inside once she had made it down the crumbling stone stairs. "I hope you don't mind that I took care of all of them. I'm guessing we'll find more of them inside. Draugr, too."

Indis shook her head, slowly making her way down the steps to join Serana, who was still holding the door open for her. _Don't think about it; don't think about it_, she mentally told herself, repeating what Serana had suggested. _Just don't think about it._

As soon as they stepped into the tomb, Indis couldn't help but wrinkle her nose in disgust. Nordic tombs had never exactly smelled pleasant to her, but now with her heightened sense of smell, she couldn't help put gag as the odor of draugr, blood, mold, and wet earth wafted up towards her nose. She grabbed her bow off of her back, giving a quick glance to the dead bandit at the bottom of the stairs, using her free hand to shield her nose from Ustengrav's unpleasant scent.

"Wait," Serana whispered, and Indis gently bumped into her, nearly sending her slowly tumbling towards the floor. "I see someone up ahead," she continued, gesturing to what appeared to be a pair of warlocks or necromancers. Indis didn't know exactly what they chose to call themselves, and she didn't exactly care, either. She reached back, fumbling for an arrow in her quiver, nocking it once she managed to firmly grasp one and pull it at. Using all of her strength, she pulled the bowstring back, muscles protesting. Taking a deep breath, she let the arrow fly.

It missed, flying in between their robed foes, hitting the stone wall behind them with a loud clatter. Their conversation quickly ended, and fully alert to the presence of intruders, the warlocks headed towards them, the dim glow of protective magicka swathing their forms as they darted away from the fire they had been standing by.

Serana gave Indis a quick nod, wasting no time in resurrecting the slain bandit that they had passed by. He groaned loudly as he was briefly brought back to life, mumbling weak curses as he ran forward, his weaponless fists up and ready for combat. Serana followed him, sharp spikes of ice flying from her palms towards one of their enemies.

The other warlock had his attention firmly focused on Indis, a flames spell readying in one hand. With shaking hands, Indis released another arrow, grimacing as it missed yet again. She languidly ducked behind a crumbling stone pillar to dodge the blast of flames sent in her direction, surprised that she was already out of breath and her muscles were aching and twitching. She felt like a weak, helpless worm as she watched Serana head towards the foe that she was supposed to be taking care of, having easily dispatched of the other furious necromancer. Indis watched, crouched and huddled behind the stony protective barrier, waiting until Serana had come back.

"I'm sorry," Indis whimpered, feeling ashamed of the fact that she hadn't been able to help her friend. "I just… I just don't know what happened."

"Don't worry about it. It is completely fine," Serana reassured her, extending a hand for her to grasp, pulling Indis to her feet. "You haven't fought for months, so you're probably a little bit rusty, that's all. You'll just have to get reacquainted with your bow. Why don't you let me take the lead?"

* * *

Serana had proved that she was more than capable of handling any enemies that they encountered, which were thankfully few, thanks to the quiet, cautious manner that they crept through Ustengrav. They had passed countless draugr sarcophagi with bated breath, leaving only the restless dead shambling throughout the dank corridors for Serana to contend with. Indis felt guilty for not being any use in a fight, and even worse, she felt absolutely worthless.

"I think I see light ahead," Serana said excitedly, wiping her dirty hands off on the supple black leather of her armor, seeming to not mind the grime that she had just smeared all over her garb. She stopped in front of the tangle of vines that covered a round opening, grasping onto them as she stared through. "It looks like some kind of large chamber, but I suppose we won't know until we get there. I can't really tell. I suppose we won't find out until we get there. We'd best keep moving."

She took off, and after tearing herself away from the foggy blue light of the wide, open chamber, Indis followed suit, treading carefully behind the vampire, both of them taking care to quietly and cautiously navigate the narrow corridors.

As they rounded a corner, both women came to a dead stop, unintentionally going slack-jawed and wide-eyed as they stared at the sight before them. They had arrived at the chamber they had just been peering at through a vine-covered, misty opening in the stone and for several seconds, they stood there silently, save for the tiny appreciative sighs and gasps that occasionally slipped through their lips.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" Serana sighed, making a grand gesture towards the cavern they had arrived in.

Indis remained quiet, arms hugging her torso as she absorbed the serene sight in front of her, scarcely able to believe that a Nordic tomb full of restless, filthy undead could play host to something as beautiful as this. She looked up towards the massive opening at the top of the cavern, watching as dim light filtered in along with a fine mist of water droplets, casting an ethereal blue light over the arching stone pathways and the tall, swaying pines below. The chatter of excited birds jerked her out of her awestruck stupor and just as Serana grabbed her arm to pull her away, to pull her further into the bowels of Ustengrav, Indis was so certain that she heard the gentle rush of water.

"We'll get down there eventually, I'm assuming," Serana stated, tugging at her hand. "Let's move."

With a reluctant sigh, Indis brushed a long, wispy strand of hair out of her face and slowly turned away, taking off after Serana once more, moving as quickly as she could to catch up.

"Wait," Serana gasped, flinging an arm out in front of Indis, motioning to the floor. "I think it's a trap. The floor looks different here." She waited until Indis had gently, yet firmly pressed a foot down on the edge of one of the floor stones adorned with a strange pattern. Indis' foot jerked back quickly when a burst of flames shot up, cursing as she stamped out the tiny, flickering flames on the sole of her burning boot.

"Damn," Indis mumbled wearily, repeating the processing with the stone next to it, letting out a sigh of relief when nothing happened. "I think this one is safe to go across," she said finally, firmly pushing down a second time, just to make sure. "It looks like it's the only ones on the right."

"Good," Serana replied as she took off again, making sure that she crossed on the correct tile, taking the lead once more. Indis followed at a distance, her hand lazily resting on the hilt of her sword, just in case its use proved absolutely necessary.

As soon as they rounded a corner, they found themselves in what appeared to be some kind of large, derelict banquet hall, with dusty cups and plates and crumbling, lopsided tables abound. There was a pair of draugr patrolling the large space, shambling back and forth, ready to fight the enemies they had waited centuries for. A deceased draugr splayed across a nearby table was quickly resurrected to join the fray, and Serana rushed forward, magicka welling up in her open palms.

The other draugr had its attention focused solely on Indis, who was lazily fumbling for her bow. Her hand grasped at her back, and as she accidentally knocked it to the floor, another idea crossed her mind. Recalling the words of power that she had learned, she took a deep breath and with all of her strength used what she knew of the Unrelenting Force Shout.

The draugr stumbled backwards, its arms swinging wildly, nearly tossing aside its bow in the process. Indis stared at it aghast, her fingers uncurling from the hilt of her sword. Her Shout had barely done anything. It was about as valuable in battle as a strong gust of wind. _Or, perhaps it's you. _She was a horrible, useless, incompetent Dragonborn.

She was jerked out of her stew of self-pity by the snarl of the draugr that she had almost knocked over and she looked up, freezing when she realized that the creature had firmly righted itself and was on the verge of loosing the arrow from its bow. The fingers that had curled around the hilt of her weapon slipped away, and her hand fell to her side as she silently watched, wondering if it was going to be that easy.

Her silent question was answered as an ice spike flew burst from Serana's palm, piercing the draugr's throat. The creature collapsed, flinging its weapon aside as it crumpled to the floor with a dry, choked gurgle.

"Come on," Serana said, bright orange-red eye watching Indis with the most curious expression. "We should keep moving."

* * *

"This is a perfect place to stop for the night," Serana yawned, stretching her hands above her head as she laid back on the bedroll she had just placed in front of Ustengrav's word wall. She tucked her hands behind her head, staring upwards towards the gap in the ceiling and the pale silvery moonlight that was passing through it. "I think all of the draugr and skeletons that were in here are gone now," she continued, turning her head to gaze about the large cavern. "There might be more, though. I don't know."

"I can stay and keep watch," Indis responded, briefly glancing up from the intricate carvings on the word wall that she had been despondently staring at. "I'll wake you up in a few hours. I'm not tired, anyway. I don't mind."

Indis waited patiently, sitting cross-legged on the cold stone ground, watching Serana until she was certain that she had fallen asleep. She leaned over, so that her face was mere inches away from the motionless vampire's, watching as Serana's eyelids twitched and jerked. Just to make sure, Indis reached out, wriggling her fingers back and forth in front of her eyes, pulling away once she was absolutely satisfied that Serana was asleep.

She stood and stretched, quietly treading to the word wall they were camped underneath, leaning against it to keep her balance as she jerked off her boots. Her gloves quickly followed suit, and her grimy, sweat-drenched armor was the last to go, only stopping when she was in her smallclothes. She shoved the discarded articles of clothing away with a bare foot and reached up to untie the leather strip that held her hair in place. White locks spilled down, delicately brushing against her thin, bony shoulders. As she knelt down to pick up the dagger she had brought, she paused, reaching out to trace the deep engravings on the tall, formidable stone structure.

_Feim._ The strange process that she used to absorb these words of power had enlightened her, and she had learned that it meant fade. It seemed oddly fitting.

Indis withdrew the fingers delicately outlining the ancient script, reaching down to grab the hilt of the dagger, standing once it was firmly clasped in her hand. Making her way over to the small pool of water nearby, she went down the incredibly short flight of steps that led down into the shallow body, taking a seat on one icy, submerged step. She gasped as the cold water sent gooseflesh cropping across her bare skin, and she quickly abandoned the dagger in her lap, rubbing her hands furiously together for warmth as she inspected her surroundings.

At the lowest level of Ustengrav's massive, spectacularly grand cavern, they had found a word wall, comfortably nestled next to a beautiful waterfall, and Indis was quickly lost in watching the water as it poured forth into the shallow pond. There was a fine, misty spray that drifted out across the surface of the pond, and the force of the cascading water had created the gentlest, most soothing rhythm that lazily lapped at the stone shore. A luna moth slowly fluttered across the water, heading towards the thicket of lush green pines that shot upwards towards the tiny, faint source of light, eventually landing on a fern near the water's edge that had been gently swaying in the breeze. She reached down, gently scooping up a handful of the wet, pungent pine needles that had been drifting aimlessly on the surface of the water. The water slipped through the cracks between her fingers, leaving only the slender green needles in her palm.

"You're useless," she said to them, angrily casting them aside, the beautiful atmosphere quickly souring.

She had told herself not to think about it. Serana had told her not to think about it. However, an entire day of silently trudging through an ancient tomb had left her with only the dark, unhappy thoughts bouncing around in her head. Despite all efforts to keep them at bay, the quiet had made that task difficult, if not impossible. She'd tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but Teldryn's final words, the bloody body of a mangled little boy, the whispers of 'monster', and Balgruuf's silent stare of disappointment and disdain kept drifting back into her mind, refusing to stop haunting her. They would _never_ stop haunting her.

It hadn't taken her long to make up her mind. She'd tried it about a month after she had been locked away in the Whiterun jail, and had obviously failed. Her hand flitted down towards the glass dagger resting in her lap, a finger flying out to trace along the weapon's grooves and curves. It had been a birthday gift from Teldryn.

She picked it up, firmly wrapping her fingers around the hilt, her knuckles slowly fading to white as she pressed the tip to her forearm. Indis paused for the briefest of moments before she inhaled deeply, repeating five words over and over again wordlessly in her mind, the silent tears streaming down her face on the verge of becoming a loud, choking sob. _You're doing the right thing._ She had done a magnificent job of convincing herself that it was best for everyone, that Skyrim and her loved ones would be better after she was gone, and that it was what everyone needed.

Tapping the dagger on the frail, delicate flesh of her bare arm, she prayed to the Divines that Teldryn would find someone loving, kind, deserving, that Israna and Casimir would forget her and would find someone better suited to give them the love and attention that they so badly needed, and she hoped that Serana wouldn't drag her pathetic body all the way out of Ustengrav.

She brought the blade down hard, the razor-sharp tip slashing through the sea of coppery freckles, quickly obscuring them with blood. Pulling the dagger away, she hesitated ever so slightly before dragging it down her arm again; creating another jagged, parallel line next to the first. Switching hands, she repeated the process with her other arm, the dagger constantly threatening to slip through her bloodied hand. Relinquishing her grip, the dagger tumbled out of her hand and into the water, slowly floating downwards to the silt at the bottom.

A tear rolled off of her cheek, landing on one crimson soaked arm, leaving the faintest splatter behind, one that was quickly washed away by another surge of blood. Rivers of red coursed down her arms, her fingers creating tiny, morbid little distributaries that separated the flow. The blood seeped through the spaces between the slim digits at an alarming rate, landing in the water below with the most insignificant of splashes. Her breathing became shallow and ragged, her hands trembled, and her lids became heavy, struggling to stay open.

Indis grasped at one nearby stone pillar, attempting to stand, but her wet, weak fingers quickly let go and she slipped, tumbling into the pool with a hollow splash. She sank below the surface, her eyes unconsciously flying open, the murky water obscuring her view. Tendrils of white hair lazily danced in the water, and the blood that continued to seep out of the gashes she had created drifted upwards, snaking around the swaying locks.

She released the breath she had been holding, uttering one, final word that emerged in the form of a wet, bubbling gurgle. Her head briefly bobbed above the surface, and before she slipped into unconsciousness, she caught one clear glance of the vivid aurora that was dancing across the crisp night sky.

* * *

_A/N: Well. I'll just leave that there, I suppose. Sorry to end things on that note, but I do want to say that things will be looking up for Indis very, very soon. Things will get better and will get happier, I promise. Sometimes you've just got to hit rock bottom before you get that wakeup call._

_Next chapter is going to be some Indis, but mainly it's going to be showing what everyone else is up to, so there's going to be lots of Brynjolf, Teldryn, Ralof, Ulfric, and Mercer. _


	33. A Fleeting Visit to Misty Grove

It was the smell of blood that first woke her up.

Serana's eyes flew open, eyelashes fluttering as she inhaled deeply, breathing in the acrid, metallic tang that permeated the air. She shot up, abandoning her thin bedroll as quickly as she could, scanning the small area that they had set up camp in. She took in Indis' empty bedroll, the pile of armor that had been carelessly abandoned by the word wall, but it was the small pool of water that caused her to let out a tiny, choked sob.

The water that had once been clear and crystalline was now a muddled, cloudy red, and as Serana scrambled towards the water, she saw one tiny, freckled hand bob above the surface of the water before vanishing. She splashed into to it, nearly slipping on the slick stairs as she descended, slogging her way over to Indis, who was floating motionless. Wrapping her arms around the tiny Imperial's waist, she dragged her over to the shore, depositing her on top of a patch of grass that had been gently swaying in the light breeze.

"Indis, Indis, please wake up, please say something," she sobbed, only leaving Indis' side for the briefest of moments to retrieve her knapsack, not bothering to wipe away the hot tears that were now streaming down her face. She rifled through the bag with trembling hands, abandoning it once she had all three healing potions clasped to her chest. They weren't particularly strong and they were all that they had brought, but she hoped that coupled with the meager amount of healing magic she knew, they would be enough. Popping the cork off of the first one, she tilted Indis' head back, pouring the concoction down her throat, searching for any sign of a response. She repeated the process with the other two potions, tossing the spent bottles aside before she grasped Indis' sliced-up, bloodied arms, golden light immediately spilling out forth from her palms. The simple, yet often effective spell, wrapped itself around Indis' arm, knitting torn flesh back together with ease. She continued until all that remained were long, raised pink scars.

With the slightest bit of hesitation, she placed a pair of fingers over her friend's wrist, frantically searching for any sign of a pulse. "Indis. Indis," she repeated, voice hoarse as she shook her friend, as hard as she could, willing her to wake up, waiting anxiously for a response.

The response she so desperately longed for never came.

* * *

She knew this place; that was something she was absolutely certain of.

Indis walked forward slowly, picking up the skirts of the long, moss green dress that she had somehow found her way into. It was a bit long, and she scooped up the fabric as she continued walking, pausing ever so briefly in the middle of the tiny, arched stone bridge. A fine mist ghosted across the surface of the babbling stream she was standing over, and a gentle breeze rushed through the thick, lush foliage, causing the nearby hanging lantern to creak softly as it lazily swayed back and forth. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she let the soft fabric slip through her fingers, her now empty hands flying upwards to cover her gasping mouth.

It was Misty Grove.

She set forward once again, this time moving more quickly, with more purpose, following the path she had once treaded all those years ago, feeling a pang of sadness when she realized that Teldryn wasn't with her this time. As she rounded a crumbling ledge, she saw an incredibly familiar sight.

Sanguine was languidly lounging in a lovely, ornately carved chair at the head of a long table, watching with an expression of mild pleasure and bemusement as his guests entertained themselves. He let out a loud, barking laugh when the spectacularly drunk man who had been attempting to dance on the table tumbled to the ground, landing squarely on his back.

Letting out a sigh, Indis shook her head, walking towards the merry little group, a snapping twig underneath her feet signaling her arrival. The Daedric Prince whipped around, confusion briefly flickering across his face before a wide smile broke out.

"Well, well, well," he called out, a large hand beckoning her to come forward, his rough, gravelly voice brimming with excitement. "It looks like my Champion has decided to join us tonight. You there," he said, snapping his fingers at a stumbling, bleary-eyed man nearby. "Bring our lovely little guest a chair."

Indis slipped into the chair that was deposited in front of her, doing her best to ignore Sanguine's curious gaze as she shifted awkwardly, trying to make herself comfortable.

"Well, there's only one reason you'd be here, m'dear," he continued nonchalantly, reaching one hand up to wipe away the mead that was dribbling down his chin. "You died up there in Mundus. Sorry 'bout that. Although, I'm glad to see that I was the one who got your soul," he cackled, clumsily grasping for a fresh bottle of mead.

"What? Why'd you get my soul?"

"Well," he began, puffing his chest out, obviously pleased with whatever he was going to say next. "Dear old Hircine and I were the two who most wanted it, and he thought he had more of a claim because of that awful little 'blessing' he gave you," he scoffed, giving a small shake of his head, making sure to stress his disdain when he said the word 'blessing'. "So, I challenged 'im to a drinkin' contest. I won by a landslide," he added with a grin.

"Oh," she replied, shrugging. She furrowed her brow, silently mulling over his words, fingers absentmindedly twisting at the strands of silvery-white hair. As the memory of Ustengrav, the dagger, and the lovely little shallow pond underneath the waterfall came rushing back, she groaned.

"Yes, I died. I'm dead. That's exactly why I'm here," she replied, working hard to swallow the lump in her throat. "Ah, fuck. I really shouldn't have done that," she lamented as she buried her face in her hands, wishing she'd at least left notes for her loved ones, or had gotten the chance to make her peace. She leaned forward, smashing her face down on the filthy, alcohol and food covered table, thinking of the last word that she had breathed out during her life on Nirn. "I wish Teldryn was here."

The corners of Sanguine's mouth twitched upwards, forming a mischievous little smirk. "Do you now? Well, I think I can make that happen for you," he said, and before she could protest, a click of his fingers created a monstrous, swirling orb of blue light in front of them. The light vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving nothing but a very confused Teldryn Sero in its wake.

* * *

Serana mumbled to herself as she swept up the pile of soul gems that littered one of the many lopsided, broken stone tables found within Ustengrav, quickly shoving them into her knapsack. She peeked inside; giving a swift, cursory once-over to the jumble within, hoping that the amount she had collected was going to be enough. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she quietly treaded down the narrow passageway, her footsteps sending gentle echoes bouncing off of the walls.

She had placed Indis' body in a bedroll, covering her up while she set out back into the tomb to find soul gems, hoping that nothing came along to disturb her. Serana gnawed nervously at her lip as she considered what she was about to do, praying and hoping that it actually worked.

Her mother Valerica had spent centuries upon centuries perfecting her necromantic skills, always striving to hone them, to perfect them, to make them terribly, frighteningly powerful, and her mother had always been more than pleased to share all of her knowledge, viewing Serana as her promising little protégé.

It was situations like this where all of this dark magical expertise came in handy, and she trusted that now that she actually really, truly needed it, her knowledge of necromancy wouldn't fail her.

* * *

Moments before, Teldryn Sero had been tangled in between a pair of lovely, curvy, and naked Nord goddesses that he'd met during one of his late-night meanderings through the Riften marketplace, and had been very much looking forward to what was about to happen with the dark-haired beauty that had been straddling his hips.

It had taken him a few seconds to realize that he was no longer in the warm, cozy room in the Bee and Barb and as his eyes flew open, he was greeted by a group of drunk miscreants, letting out hoarse cackles as they took delight in his misfortune. He stumbled to his feet, grasping at a nearby bush, using the spindly little branch he had torn away to shield himself. Letting out a string of Dunmeri curses, he turned around, the expletives pouring from his mouth quickening their pace as he saw Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Irritation and Ruining Lives, leaning against a chair.

"Filthy n'wah," Teldryn spat, marching over towards the colossal horned man. "I should have known you would were behind something like this."

The Daedra raised his hands, palms hovering far too close to Teldryn's face for his comfort. "Oh, don't blame me. I was just doin' what the lady asked. She's the one who said she wanted t' see ya," he said, gesturing to Indis, who had been silently watching.

Teldryn looked up in surprise, and as soon as he opened his mouth to respond, she turned on her heel and fled. "Fuck," he mumbled, ignoring the laughter that drifted after him as she took off after the fleeing figure. He lost sight of her briefly, finally catching a glimpse of her hair through a thicket of trees. Letting out a groaned, he made his way through to her, wincing every time a sharp, prickly branch dragged across his bare flesh.

At the sound of his approaching footsteps, she turned, appraising him with bloodshot eyes. "What have you been doing?" she asked accusingly, raising one arm to wipe at her running nose. She took in his nude form, briefly reflecting back on the way that he had been grasping and moaning as soon as he appeared in Sanguine's realm, and it was all too obvious what he had been doing before he had been pulled away. "Getting ready to fuck someone else, were you? You've moved on quickly."

"Well," he replied, letting his pathetic, leafy shield fall to the ground as he folded his arms over his chest. "You seem to be doing quite well, cavorting with that Daedra instead of doing whatever the fuck it was that you said was so important," he spat, letting out a haughty sniff. "Had you just finished with the orgy when I arrived? Were you getting ready to fuck Sanguine himself, _fetcher_?"

"I don't even know why I asked to have you brought here, that was obviously a stupid mistake," she cried out, throwing her hands up into the air in frustration. "You stupid, worthless mercenary. Gods. Fuck you, Teldryn."

"Is that why you brought me here? To insult me?" he spat, his jaw instinctively clenching.

"No."

"Then why am I here? More importantly, why are _you_ here?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it, and quickly snapped it shut again. Turning away from him, she focused her attention on the water racing over the rocks in the nearby stream. Once she was fairly certain she wouldn't cry, she let out a tiny sigh before she spoke. "I'm not here because I want to be, Teldryn," she said, using every last bit of effort to keep her voice calm and even. Despite that, her tone became venomous when she spat out his name. "I'm here because I'm dead. Sanguine got my soul."

He hadn't been entirely certain what he had been expecting to hear, but it certainly wasn't that. "Dead? What… what do you mean? How?"

"Dead; you know, that thing that's the opposite of being alive? That's where I'm at right now," she replied, waving a hand at him, taking on the most irate, condescending tone that she could muster. "As for how… I-I did it. I killed myself," she continued, pushing the sleeves of her dress up to her elbows, presenting him with the puffy, jagged scars on her forearms that stretched from her elbows to her wrists. "The glass dagger you gave me worked wonderfully, just so you know."

He grabbed her arms, running the pads of calloused thumbs over the angry lines, staring at them with an unreadable expression on his face. "Fuck, Indis," was finally what he offered her, unsure of what else to say. When she tried to tug her arms away, his grip instinctively tightened and he pulled her back towards him, enveloping her in a relentlessly tight embrace. "I'm sorry," he finally said, and when a muffled, garbled response came from his chest, he relinquished his grip. "I'm sorry I called you a fetcher."

"I'm sorry I called you a worthless and told you to fuck off."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not fine," Indis sighed. "I was absolutely awful to you, to everyone. I… I get it now. I understand," she trailed off, reaching up to run one hand through her tousled locks. "I'm sorry. I really am. I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I wish that I could have gotten the chance to make it right, but if this is the way it's going to have to go, then I'm happy I've at least gotten the chance to say this much. Teldryn, just so you know, it had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me," she added.

"I shouldn't have gone."

"No, you did the right thing. You really did," she reluctantly admitted, wishing that they could have had this conversation when she was still alive. _Maybe it would have changed things, but maybe not. Who knows. It doesn't really matter now._

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, avoiding eye contact, and after a few minutes of discomfort, she continued. "There were times when I hated you for it, but I still respected you for telling me how you felt. A hateful respect," she surmised, letting out a bitter laugh. "If you want, I can tell you everything. We can talk about all of this, even though it won't make much of a difference now."

His brow creased, and he ran a large hand over his stubble-covered chin, scratching at the prickly hairs thoughtfully. "Of course. This will likely be our last and only chance," he admitted ruefully. He hadn't exactly known what to make of her silence over the past three months, and he had often found himself wondering where she was, what she was doing. This was his only chance for finality, for a bizarre kind of closure, to finally get the answers to all of his questions.

She took a deep breath, readying herself as she prepared to launch into a long, detailed account of absolutely _everything_ that had happened since his departure. All of a sudden, she stepped back, surprised to see a faint purple light dancing across the surface of her hands, slowly crawling up her arms. "What in the name of Oblivion is doing this?"

"Well, well," interrupted a voice from behind them, and they looked up, both displeased to see Sanguine waltzing his way towards them. He stopped, watching the flickering light, before gently prodding it, jerking his large finger away. "You wouldn't happen t' know a necromancer, would ya?" he continued, letting out a low whistle of appreciation. "Damn powerful work; very, very impressive. _Damn_. Well, looks like you're headin' back to Nirn. I s'pose I'll just have to find you up there, and we'll wreak some havoc on Tamriel. What d'ya say?"

Before she could respond, the magicka swelled, fully engulfing her before pulling her soul back to Nirn. Teldryn watched, completely aghast, before turning to the Daedra with a sour grimace. "You're going to send me back, _now_," he demanded, prodding the Daedra in the chest. "Send me to wherever she's going to be. We weren't finished talking."

"Look at you, actin' like you're the boss around here," Sanguine replied, wriggling his fingers in the haughty little Dunmer's face, tone mocking. He knew exactly where she would be going, some wretched little tomb called Ustengrav, but he found himself considering the other possibilities. "Oh, I know where she'll be, but there are so many other interesting places. Like a troll lair, or a cave full o' vampires, oh, or maybe even at the top of mountain, with a big ol' dragon slumbering on it," the red and black Daedra cackled, ignoring the fuming elf.

"I don't see what's so funny," Teldryn hissed through gritting teeth, patience wearing thin. "Back, now. To Indis, you s'wit."

"What's so funny? I'm jus' imagining you, tryin' to creep away from a sleepin' dragon, your cock swingin' back and forth as you pray to… to whoever the fuck you pray to, that it won't notice you," Sanguine laughed, suddenly going silent. His back straightened and he lifted his fingers, clicking them once as an incredibly unsettling smile spread across his face. "All right, I've made up my mind. Back to Nirn with you."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the outrageously short chapter, but I decided to break things up so it wouldn't be so long. Also, it seemed like a good place to leave things hanging. Well, Serana put her mad necromancer skills to use, and although Indis and Teldryn got to have a tiny little chat, they're nowhere close to being finished talking, so look forward to that. Still plenty of things to share, and piles of issues to sort out. What do you think'll happen once they get the chance to actually talk and Indis spills everything? What are you hoping will happen? I'm just curious. __ Well, anyway, think Sanguine will be a troll, or will he do what Teldryn asked?_


	34. The Final Depths

The seconds that stretched out after she completed the spell seemed infinite.

Serana clutched an empty soul gem in one of her hands, trembling, anxious fingers tapping against the surface in a wild, sporadic dance. She gnawed at her lip anxiously, her free hand wrapped around Indis' cold, limp wrist, the two fingers pressed against the cool flesh awaiting any sign of a pulse.

After what seemed like an eternity, Serana was rewarded with the faintest, feeblest pulse imaginable, delicately beating against her trembling fingers. She withdrew them, letting out a relieved sigh as she raked her hands through her messy, greasy hair, unintentionally undoing the crown of braids wrapped around her head. A few more seconds passed and Indis' chest began to slowly rise and fall before her eyes finally flew open, lashes fluttering delicately.

"Oh, thank goodness," Serana gasped, wrapping her arms around her friend in the tightest embrace conceivable, fighting back against the tears that were threatening to spill over once more. "I didn't know if that would work."

Indis remained silent, slowly readjusting to the state of being alive, allowing Serana to smooth down her hair and continue babbling on about how happy and relieved she was. All of a sudden, the dark-haired vampire pulled away, inspecting Indis with a scowl. Serana silently stared at her for a few fleeting seconds, and when she moved one hand, Indis expected her to wipe away the tears that had been pouring down her cheeks. What she received was a hard, fast slap to the face that left the tender flesh stinging.

"You fucking idiot!" Serana sobbed, giving Indis the gentlest shake, her chin beginning to quiver and tremble. "Why did you do that? What were you thinking?"

Indis pushed her away, scooting backwards towards the stone wall behind her, still rubbing away at her cheek, casting her eyes down towards the rocky ground below. "Do you really need to ask? You know why, Serana. I was doing everyone a favor, but you had to go and ruin it."

The response she got was another slap, one that was harder, angrier, and her friend grabbed her head, moving it so that they were facing each other. "Look at me," Serana said. Her voice was still stern, with a strange, furious urgency to it, but it was softer, gentler than before. The vampire waited, orange-red eyes boring into Indis, patiently waiting until Indis looked up and met her piercing gaze. "I know what you're thinking," she continued quietly, quiet voice cracking. "You're thinking that you're a horrible person that doesn't deserve to live, all because of what you've done. You're wrong, Indis."

The Imperial shook her head, tearing her eyes away once more. "What would you know about being a horrible person?"

Serana let out a bitter laugh, her fingers relinquishing the tight grip they'd had on Indis' arms. As Serana slowly settled down next to her, Indis rubbed away at the angry welts the vampire's fingernails had left behind as they had dug into her skin. An uneasy silence between them, and for several minutes, eye contact was avoided and the only sound that penetrated the stillness was a gentle cough.

"A thing or two," Serana replied simply, fixating her gaze on a rotting stump across the small pond. "You've met my family; you know how we became vampires. All I'm going to say is that we didn't exactly engage in the most wholesome of activities to fend off boredom. My father particularly loved bringing mortals into the castle and setting them loose, turning it into a terrible little hunt that he would sometimes drag on for days."

"You… you participated in that?" Indis whispered, a small hand unconsciously flying to her mouth, muffling the gasp that had slipped out.

Serana turned to look at her, face impassive and blank. "My father wasn't exactly the kind of man that you said no to, Indis. I'll leave it at that. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that we've all got dark secrets that we're not proud of. We've all done atrocious, terrible things that we regret and sometimes, they're the worst things that we can imagine, and they're all because of circumstances out of our control. I know that you didn't ask for this. How… how did you get it, anyway?"

"You're probably going to think this is utterly ridiculous and I'm a liar, but I got it from Hircine," Indis sighed, tears instantaneously welling up in her eyes. "I fucking hate it. I don't want to be like this. I'm a monster now, Serana. Look at what I did because of it. I _deserve_ to die."

"Stop it! Just shut up," Serana cried, wringing her hands before she whipped to the side, grabbing Indis' arms. "You do not. Yes, there are some, people who haven't the faintest idea of who you are or what you're going through, and they're ready to condemn you to death without the slightest bit of hesitation. They're wrong, though."

"Oh, are they, now?"

"Being a vampire, or a werewolf, or anything else that folk consider an abomination doesn't make you horrible. How you handle it, how you respond… _that's _what's going to determine things. You want to fucking kill yourself? Go ahead, but kill those parts of you that you hate. The ones that you can't bear, the ones that you think make you such a wretched person. Kill them, but it doesn't mean you have to stop living."

Indis opened her mouth to respond, but Serana held up a hand, motioning for her to remain quiet. "It's not going to be easy, Indis. Think about it, though. I'm here for you, and I'm sure Teldryn will be as well, once you see him again."

At the mention of the Dunmer, Indis scowled, letting the tears she had held back for several minutes began to flow, streaming steadily down her face. "That stupid man," she sniffed, reaching up one hand to awkwardly wipe away at her damp cheeks. "He was there, you know. I ended up in Misty Grove, which I s'pose is one of Sanguine's realms. I just said that I wished Teldryn was there, fuck knows why, and Sanguine brought him there. He was naked, obviously about to fuck someone else."

"Oh, Indis. I'm sorry."

She shrugged, reaching a hand down to lazily trace circles in the dirt. "It's fine. He left me, Serana. We weren't together any more. What, or who, he's been doing isn't any of my damn business. I don't blame him, though. I'm awful."

"You keep saying that, and no, you're not," Serana replied, trying to keep the overwhelming exhaustion and exasperation out of her voice. "Yes, you've done awful things, but I don't think that makes you an awful person. As I've said before, what happened in Whiterun, and any time before, doesn't make you a terrible person, one that's worthy of death, and it doesn't mean that this is going to determine the rest of your life. There's plenty of time to change, to make things right, to atone for all of the wrongs that you've done. Just think about it, all right?"

"I… I'll think about it," Indis replied, internally mulling over Serana's words. She honestly didn't feel any better, and perhaps after some rumination on the whole messy, horrible matter, she would, but at the moment, she was choosing to take some of Serana's other advice. _Just don't think about it. Not right now. _

"What… what are all of these for?" Indis asked, changing the subject as she lazily gestured to the pile of spent soul gems at the edge of the water. She really didn't want to discuss her semi-failure anymore. Her muscles ached and protested, and the simple movement was draining. "Are they empty?"

"Yes," Serana replied, reaching up to wipe away the beads of sweat that had collected on her brow. She leaned back against the word wall with a sigh, gently resting her head against the cool stone. "They're all empty. I needed all of them for the binding spell that I performed on you to bring you back. We should actually talk about that and some of the side effects, by the way."

Indis furrowed her brow, stretching out along the bedroll, moving so that she was lying down with her knees drawn up to her chest. It was rough, thin, and uncomfortable, but at that moment, she couldn't be bothered to give a damn. Resting her head on the lumpy, mashed up pile of material that vaguely resembled a pillow, she looked back up at Serana. "What do you mean a binding spell?"

The vampire gnawed at her lip, occasionally pausing to open her mouth and quickly snap it shut again, considering the best way to explain to Indis what she had done. "How much do you know about enchanting and conjuration?"

"Not much," Indis admitted. Magic, in any way, shape, or form, hadn't ever been one of her strong suits. "I've attempted to conjure a few atronachs, but that's all. I can't say that I've ever attempted to do anything with enchanting. Why?"

"Well," Serana began, stretching her arms out in front of her, flexing her sore, stiff limbs. "Let me try to think of the easiest way to explain this. It honestly isn't simple, even I don't exactly know how to best put it into words," she admitted, pausing to collect her thoughts. "You know that my mother is a necromancer, right?"

Indis nodded, widening her eyes, willing them to stay open. She had witnessed some of Serana's own skill with conjuration and necromancy, and she briefly recalled Valerica's astounding hidden laboratory that they had stumbled across years ago. "I do. You said she was quite good, too; that she taught you everything you know."

"My mother spent centuries perfecting her art," Serana continued, letting out a wistful, appreciative sigh. "She poured herself into it after my father discovered the prophecy and became engrossed with it, distancing himself from her. Distancing himself from _us_. I was her student, and she saw me more as a protégé more than her daughter. She taught me everything I know, including how to resurrect dead without them becoming a thrall, or a zombie, and taught me the crucial difference there."

"What is the difference?"

"There's a difference between reanimation and resurrection, Indis. Reanimation is just that; you're using the forces of Oblivion to bend a dead being to your will, but with resurrection, it gets a little bit more complicated. Are you following me?" she asked, looking up at the heavy-lidded Imperial. Once Indis had given her a frantic little nod, she continued. "When you resurrect someone you're bringing a soul, sometimes theirs, sometimes another's, back into their body and you're binding it to the flesh."

Indis scrunched up her face, eyes going dark as she silently mulled over Serana's words. "Kind of like enchanting?" she finally asked, hesitation creeping into her voice. She still was entirely lost, uncertain as to why exactly they were having a basic lesson on conjuration in the depths of Ustengrav. _Hopefully this will be cleared up soon. _

"A bit, yes. An oversimplification, but I suppose the basic principles are the same. With resurrection, you're binding the soul to the body again. It's not exactly an easy process, and it's one that, well… frankly, it isn't really practiced. Necromancy tends to be frowned upon. As I mentioned, my mother spent decades, _centuries_, working on this, trying to find a way to restore the body's soul permanently. With a lot of trial and error, she finally was able to get a firm grasp on it," Serana finished, pursing her lips.

"What do you mean, 'trial and error'?" Indis asked, despite that tiny, niggling sensation within that told her that she already knew what her companion meant. "You can't possibly mean…"

"Yes," Serana reluctantly groaned, reaching upwards to anxiously twist away at a strand of dirty hair. "There were quite a few, um, unwilling participants she went through as she experimented. You can't exactly resurrect someone if they're still alive. Enough of that, though," she continued, waving a hand dismissively, eager to leave aside the dark talk of her mother's conjuration subjects. "Moving on. What do you know about the school of conjuration? Not necromancy, just conjuration."

"Oh, that's easy," Indis replied, relieved that their conversation seemed to be moving in a direction that she understood. "Atronachs, familiars, shades, and the like are summoned from Oblivion. I think so, at least."

"Precisely. That's why they aren't able to stay in Mundus too long, given that it's an Aedric plane. They're Daedric creatures bound to a Daedric realm, which is what the Planes of Oblivion are. Of course, if you become powerful enough, you can summon permanent conjurations."

"How? I just thought you said that since all of those things were bound to Oblivion, they couldn't stay on Nirn," Indis sighed, propping herself up on her side. She was already hopelessly lost. _Again_.

"It's not that difficult to grasp," Serana huffed, shooting Indis a mild look of annoyance. When Indis looked down in embarrassment, her eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Indis. I'm just tired. I forget that you don't know as much about this as I do. To put things simply, you have to alter the essence, the state, of what you conjured by binding it," she pressed on, hoping that she was using simple enough terms. "You have to bind it to the Aedric plane so that it can remain permanently, but it's incredibly difficult to do, and only a powerful conjurer with decades of experience is able to do that. Of course, atronachs and familiars are _nothing_ like human souls."

Indis flopped back down on her dusty bedroll, rolling her eyes at the sky above. "Serana, what does this have to do with anything? What does this have to do with _me_?"

"My mother taught me everything I knew," the vampire said, reiterating a point she had already made frequently, as though it would absolve her of all guilt and wrongdoing attached to the acts that were committed in order to acquire the knowledge. "Including how to permanently resurrect the dead and rebind the soul to the body, which is what I did with you. It's a process similar to enchanting, but it requires vast knowledge of necromancy and a large number of soul gems to track the soul."

"Track the soul? What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Think of it as a set of footprints, left behind by someone walking through the snow during a blizzard," Serana mused, walking a pair of fingers on the earth below, using them to meander around on the muddy ground, their tips leaving tiny, delicate indentations in their wake. "If you're behind someone, you can see them, but only for the briefest of moments before they fade away and are covered with fresh snowfall. It's the same with a soul; when the link between soul and body is severed by death, there is a traceable path between the two. Only for a short while, though."

"How short are we talking? And why was there no issue with bringing a soul back into my body when my vampirism was cured?"

Serana hesitated, considering Indis' question, reaching up to tap at her pale cheek with the tip of one muddy finger. "Death and undeath aren't the same. The link still remains even though you aren't _technically_ alive, and using the soul of another, which is what the black soul gem was for, will draw your soul back from the depths of Oblivion. Moving on to your next question… just hours, no more than a few days. The trail left behind it is quick to disappear. After that, after the soul has been separated from the body for two long, the link fades away to nothing. Then, the bond is severed, and hope of resurrection is gone. Luckily, I was able to perform the ritual my mother developed in time."

"And?" Indis pressed, waiting for a more solid explanation. "It sounds like there's more to this."

"There is," Serana admitted, pulling her knees up to her chest. "My mother found that the only way to successfully rebind a soul and body, even if it's not that long after death, is by heavily drawing on the forces and power found within Oblivion itself, ones very similar to those required to summon atronachs and the like, creating a soul that's both Aedric and Daedric. It was the only way to get the soul to actually stay, instead of having it flit away almost immediately."

"Wait, what? I… I don't think I really understand what that means."

"It means that your soul is actually tied to the Planes of Oblivion now, as well as being linked here to Mundus. It should make tasks like conjuring and enchanting much easier. The summoned thralls and atronachs of others may actually be drawn to you if they sense your connection. You may even be able to enter the Soul Cairn now, even though you're not a vampire. Who knows? Only time will tell, I suppose. You've got a powerful little piece of Oblivion inside you," Serana smiled, prodding Indis in the chest, letting out a gentle laugh before she continued. "My mother also speculated that…that." Serana paused, uncertain if she should continue, sharing musings that Indis would likely find most intriguing.

"Yes? What was it? Tell me!"

"My mother thought that it might be possible for someone with both an Aedric and Daedric soul to pass between realms, allowing them to travel in between Oblivion and Mundus without using a portal, which is how it's typically done. I'm not even sure if she was right, and even if she was, it's not something that would be easy. I don't know how it would be done, or if it's possible," Serana cautioned, immediately regretting her decision to share the wild little speculation that her mother had spewed centuries ago after polishing off a bottle of wine. Indis opened her mouth, no doubt to ask yet another question, but Serana held up a hand to stop her. "It's likely just another ridiculous, incorrect notion. Come now, let's get some rest. I'm exhausted from dragging your soul back from Oblivion, and we've still got the rest of this wretched tomb to get through."

* * *

He was somewhere inside the deep, dark depths of Ustengrav. Or, at least he thought he was. At that moment, there was no way of knowing.

Teldryn attempted to crane his neck, doing his best to survey his surroundings. There were a few lit torches, nestled in sconces along the spiderweb-encrusted walls, and he could hear the foul beasts that had created them scuttling about below. He had been deposited there in the buff, right in the middle of a mass of frostbite spiders, who had promptly swarmed him, covering him in their thick, sticky webbing before stringing him up from the stony ceiling above. The message was quite clear: they weren't hungry now, but they would be later.

The blood had rushed to his head hours ago, and he had gradually drifted in and out of a hazy consciousness, perking up ever so slightly whenever he heard a noise. It was usually a skeever, or just a spider, but as he opened his eyes, ears straining to listen to the newest sound, he was _so_ certain that he heard voices.

* * *

Indis knew exactly what she needed to do so that they could get past the series of gates that were currently cutting them off from the rest of Ustengrav, but the memory of smashing into a stone pillar outside of High Hrothgar and the simple desire to be belligerent caused her to push aside the notion of using the Shout that they had taught her. They had attempted to run straight through the series of lights that appeared to activate the gates, allowing them to open, but after repeatedly failing to make it through the series of openings in time, Indis had realized that the Greybeards had taught her that certain Shout for a reason.

She paced up and down, back and forth, walking through the series of red lights and tiny pillars, ignoring the bells that rang out and echoed through the depths every time she passed through the light. Finally, she stopped, reaching up scratch at her chin, her leg bouncing up and down as she tapped her foot.

"Here's what we're going to do," she began, letting her pack slide off of her shoulders, setting it down in one of the red, glowing areas of light, sighing as a bell chimed once again. "It looks like if there's something in the light, the gate will open. If we have something sitting in all of these lights, then all of the gates will open, and we can pass through."

"We can't leave our packs behind, though," Serana pointed out, gesturing to the red-lit satchel Indis had deposited on the ground. "As much as I'd like to leave this heavy thing behind, I'm quite certain we'll need them again soon."

"You're right," Indis groaned, reaching up to run a hand through her messy locks, twirling a strand of white hair around her finger, mind quickly setting off in pursuit of other options. "Here's an idea."

"I also have an idea. How about you just use that Shout that you said the Greybeards taught you? It should get you through there no problem, and I'm guessing there's a lever or a chain that you can pull on the other side to open all of the gates."

Indis whipped around, fixing her with a ferocious scowl before shaking her head. "No," she refused, folding her arms over her chest. "Fuck those assholes and their ridiculous quest to crawl through this horrible tomb to get some worthless horn. Fuck them. I'm not using that Shout. We're doing this my way."

"Any ideas, then?"

"Yes, actually," Indis sniffed, taking a deep breath. Ever since Hircine had bestowed the awful, wretched condition that he had dubbed a blessing upon her, she had found that she was much easier to anger. Even though Serana's barrage of questions and suggestions and thinking about the whole absurd mission they were on were both rather trivial, minor irritations, she still wasn't entirely sure exactly what would set her off. It was best to not risk it. "First, before we continue, I need you to cast a calming spell on me."

Thankfully, Serana didn't question the order and simply cocked an eyebrow as she raised one hand, allowing a light green magicka to swell in her palm. After a few seconds she cast the spell, and as the soothing light enveloped her, Indis let out a sigh.

"There, that's better," she continued, voice no longer tense, and she let her arms fall to her sides, her muscles slowly relaxing. "Remember those draugr that we killed a short distance from here? They broke out of their coffins right before we entered this big area. Let's go grab a few of their bodies, drag them back here, and use them open the gates. If we rest them in the light, they should work with no problem. Come on."

Serana dutifully obliged, trotting off after Indis, who already appeared to be calmer and in much better spirits since she had cast the spell mere seconds before. She dumped her knapsack, setting off another bell in the distance, thankful that the deep chime drowned out her irritated muttering about the path of most resistance.

* * *

"Oh, fuck. Gods, this is absolutely, completely idiotic," Serana gasped, slim fingers desperately clutching at the crumbling stone walls. Another bead of sweat rolled into her eyes and she ignored the urge to wipe it away, trying not to think about how much it stung. She needed to keep both of her hands firmly attached to the wall if she wanted to avoid toppling backwards. "Who was this man? Why does he need an entire room with a floor that's made out of nothing but fire traps? You'd think the endless maze of corridors and rooms filled with countless draugr would be enough to keep people away."

Indis deftly shimmied along behind her, making an attempt to shrug, nearly tumbling backwards when she did so. After she righted herself, she let out a tiny relieved sigh, continuing onwards after Serana. "You say that," she laughed, the strong effects of the calming spell still at work. "But look at us; we've made it past all of the draugr and traps that were before this."

"Fair point," Serana reluctantly admitted, jumping from the tiny bit of wall that they had been shuffling along onto a large boulder, settling down to finally relax. They were only halfway through the massive room.

Indis hopped down after her, landing with a soft thud before she took a seat next to the vampire. "This is the tomb of Jorgen Windbender, or something like that."

"That doesn't sound right."

"It isn't, but who the fuck cares? I certainly don't. I'm beginning to think they really only gave me this quest just so they could get me to leave High Hrothgar," Indis replied, raising a hand to stifle a giggle.

Serana lifted one hand to wipe away the sweat that had collected on her brow, letting out a laugh, happy to see Indis smiling. She knew that it was only the effects of the calming spell, and that it would eventually wear off, but at that moment, she didn't care. Indis hadn't smiled or laughed in months, so it was a welcome sight. "I don't either," she began, turning her head when she heard a faint shuffling noise in the distance, squinting towards the source of the sound. "Damn. It looks like there are frostbite spiders ahead."

"Oh, I know," Indis responded, waving a hand dismissively. "I saw them as soon as we hopped down here. I can see a lot better now," she continued, tapping her finger right next to one of her eyes. "Even in my right eye. It's not as good as the other one, but still. I can see them quite well. Gods, I hate those fuckers. Don't tell Aventus I said that, he'd never forgive me if he knew that I thought his precious pet was absolutely vile and disgusting," she said, unconsciously shivering at the thought of Potato.

"I won't, don't worry. Do you think we could take care of these things from here?"

Shrugging, Indis clambered to her feet, reaching for her bow. "I don't see why not. Hopefully we'll be out of range of their disgusting attacks. You know that stuff they spew everywhere? I heard it can eat straight through a man's armor and disintegrate his flesh. Let's try for the big one first."

Pulling an arrow out of her quiver, she moved so that she was standing next to Serana, readying her bow. After sitting in a cell for a few months, the movement still felt strange and foreign to her, and as she drew her bowstring back, she found herself silently thanking the Divines that she had a powerful sorceress as her companion. After giving a silent nod to Serana, she let the arrow fly, pleased when the sound of it making contact with spider flesh rang out in the dank cavern. Serana's spikes of ice followed suit, flying forth from both of her hands, quickly embedding themselves in their large foe.

"Shit," Indis muttered, jumping to the side as a large glob of venom was lobbed towards them, landing in the space that they had just vacated with a splat. The sound of popping and sizzling penetrated their ears, and Indis gave a quick glance downwards, surprised to see the venomous goo eating away at the cobwebs and dirt below. She readied her bow again, jumping back into the fray, sending arrow after arrow towards the small group of spiders, most of them making contact with their foes. After a few minutes of waging their long-ranged attack from the relative safety of a distant boulder, the gigantic frostbite spider collapsed with a shudder and a shriek, joining its comrades in death.

"Finally," Serana sighed, lowering her hands. She picked up her knapsack, motioning to the boulder that was a short jump across the fiery floor. "I'm glad we didn't have to get any closer to fight them. I've seen firsthand what their bites can do. Let's keep going. I've spent more than enough times in tombs. I'd like to get out of here as soon as possible."

As she followed Serana, who was moving as quickly and nimbly as she could, doing her best to stay away from the floor that would send flames shooting up at the slightest touch, Indis couldn't help but notice that one of the web-covered, cocoon like structures dangling from the ceiling was moving. "Serana, look," she whispered, nudging her companion as they jumped to the platform littered with the bodies of fallen spiders, finally leaving behind the fire trap floors. She pointed towards the dangling structure, watching it carefully. "It's moving. There's someone in there!"

"Or something," Serana replied, casting her eyes upwards. "It could be a draugr. We could always get it down, just to see what's inside. How do you think we could get it down here?"

Instead of responding, Indis smiled, unsettling Serana with how wolfish her toothy grin was. She left the vampire's side, moving so that she was closer to the wriggling object, taking a deep breath once she was standing still.

"_FUS RO!_"

It still wasn't a particularly powerful Shout, but with the second word of power tacked on, it had just enough force to tear the cocoon away from the ceiling, sending it flying towards the soft, squishy pile of hatched frostbite spider eggs, where it landed with a soft thump. The two women broke into a short jog as they approached, kneeling down next to it. Indis held her palm out, and Serana instantly, instinctively shook her head.

"No daggers. Not for you. I'll cut it open," Serana said, ignoring Indis' glare. She unsheathed the slim, ebony weapon, immediately setting to work on slicing open the thick, sticky covering. Eventually tossing aside her blade, she dug her fingers into the opening her dagger had created, yanking it open. They gazed silently at the coughing, gasping Dunmer wrapped up inside, scarcely able to believe that it was Teldryn that they found, both still quietly floored by their discovery.

"Finally," he gasped, his voice dry and hoarse. "I asked that wretched Sanguine to put me where you were, and well, it looks like he did, but did it in the most absolutely asshole way possible."

Serana burst into laughter, her loud, obnoxious cackling echoing throughout the stone chamber. She reached up to wipe away the tears that had begun to stream down her quickly reddening face, failing to notice that Indis hadn't joined in with laughter of her own.

Upon seeing Teldryn, any bit of happiness or calm that remained from the spell Serana had cast upon her quickly dissipated, and Indis snatched up the ebony dagger that Serana had abandoned. "You asked to be put where I was, did you?" she hissed, fingers wrapping around the dagger's hilt. "You didn't want to be put right back underneath whoever the woman was that you were fucking?"

He remained silent, the webbing wrapped around him hindering any attempts to shift uncomfortably, and she continued, willing her voice to not crack. "You want to get fucked?" she spat, dropping the weapon on the floor as she stood. "Fine. I'll fuck you. I'm not going to help you."

As she stormed off, she knew that she was being unreasonable, that she shouldn't just leave him all wrapped up and helpless, but at that moment, memories of their encounter in Misty Grove flooded her mind, and she didn't care. She sat down on one of the large, squishy, vacated spider egg casings that dotted the chamber, sullenly watching as Serana continued to cut him loose. There was webbing that still coated his body, and she heard Serana mumble that for everyone's sake, he should just leave it on. As they approached, Indis casted her eyes downward, ignoring the sound of Teldryn clearing his throat.

"We should probably talk."

"We don't have time right now," Indis insisted, dusting off her armor as she stood, refusing to meet his eyes as she brushed past him on her way towards the door that led further into Ustengrav. "Right now, we have an incredibly pointless and stupid quest to finish. We can talk later, once we've finally gotten out of this wretched place."

She was grateful when he silently nodded, relieved that he had the sense to forego any sarcastic, sniping remarks at the moment. He and Serana followed her quietly, and as soon as they stepped into the next chapter, she let out a sigh of relief, knowing that this was it. They had finally reached the end.

Indis picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog as she treaded down the walkway that led towards the sarcophagus resting on a raised dais, occasionally glancing to the side as large, ornately carved pillars rose out of the water next to them with shuddering groans. This was definitely the end.

She ascended the steps up to the sarcophagus with great trepidation, eyes sweeping over the structure, her breath hitching in her throat as her eyes landed on the space that had very obviously once held a horn-shaped object in it. Where the horn of Jurgen Windcaller once rested was a slip of parchment, which Indis promptly snatched up. She flipped it open, reading the hastily scrawled message inside, her mouth setting itself in an angry, flat line as she turned towards Teldryn and Serana.

"Serana," she began, her hand balling up into a tight little fist, crumpling the note firmly grasped inside. "I think I'm going to need another calming spell."

* * *

An hour later, after several spells to relax an agitated, furious Indis, who had paced back and forth, muttering a string of relatively calm curses, Serana cleared her throat.

"I think we should go, and soon. I'm going to go back to that room with the spiders, though. I want to harvested some of the eggs that haven't hatched, yet. They're useful for potions," she said, leaving Indis and Teldryn alone, silently leaning against Jurgen Windcaller's final resting place.

"I'm sorry that horn wasn't here," he finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had stretched between them.

She shrugged, looking down at the mussed note still clenched in her hand. It had told her to come to the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and to ask to rent the attic room, the mysterious author stressing that they needed to speak with her immediately. "It's fine," she said, her tone suggesting that it was anything but.

He watched her, catching the briefest glimpse of the angry, raised scars that trailed down her forearms, revealed to him after she had pushed up the sleeves of her Nightingale armor. When he had seen her in Misty Grove, she had looked flushed, radiant, and healthy, but after spending the briefest of moments inspecting her, he could see that wasn't the case for her physical body on Nirn. Her face was gaunt, the sallow, pallid skin stretched out over her sunken cheekbones. Once in a while, she would glance up at him, meeting his gaze with angry, dull silver eyes. He would find himself on the brink of asking how her eye color changed, but the inquiry was never made. She let out a bored sigh, tossing her dye-free white hair over one shoulder, turning to face him.

"Need something, or are you going to just keep staring?"

He stepped forward, grabbing her forearms, hands wrapping around them in a grip that was likely far too tight. "I'm sorry," he began, voice soft as he ran the pads of his thumbs over the jagged raised lines. He would need to thank Serana later. Pausing, he let his arms fall. Having this kind of discussion wasn't something that he was used to, and he certainly didn't enjoy it, but he recognized when it was necessary. "Don't you _dare_ ever try that again," he said quietly, breathing in deeply, his eyes still focused on the scars. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for… for whatever it was that happened that led you to do that, but I'm here now, and I'm not going to go anywhere."

Before she could respond, he pulled her into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around her. Indis tensed up, muscles instinctively seizing at the somewhat foreign gesture. Teldryn hadn't ever been the type to get overly touchy and intimate, and any kind of hug from him was a rather rare occurrence. Gradually, she relaxed, her hands finding their way to the small of his back, her head eventually coming to rest on his chest as she settled into his embrace.

"We're stuck," she finally mumbled, attempting to look up at him.

"I wouldn't say that we're stuck," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "We don't have to continue this, if you don't want to, but I'm willing to work to set things right. I _want_ to, m'sera."

She shifted again, mumbling something incoherent before speaking more loudly. "No, I mean that we're actually stuck to each other. This damned web that's all over you is so sticky and it's all over my armor now."

After a few seconds of struggling and pushing, Indis broke free, wiping away at the gummy mess that coated her armor with an exasperated sigh. Glancing up, she saw that Serana was striding towards them, a tiny satchel filled with horrible little bastard eggs clutched tightly in one hand. "We can talk more after we get out of here," she said firmly, picking up the knapsack she had abandoned a short time before. "Right now, we should get out of here and make for Riverwood, just to see things through to the end."

* * *

_A/N: Whoa, man. I'm sorry this chapter took me forever and a day to get out! I don't know what the deal was. It was just one of those chapters that did not want to get written, and I really struggled to finish it. With that said, I hope you enjoyed all of the talk about conjuration and necromancy and the rest of the time in Ustengrav. Thank goodness they can get out of that place now, right?_

_Next chapter, look forward to a visit with everyone's least favorite Blade, Indis and Teldryn finally having their big talk (what's gonna happen there, anyway?), an encounter with some dastardly vampires that want to blot out the sun, an assassination, and a battle with big, bad Sahloknir. Oh, and finally I'll get to the glimpses of Ulfric, Brynjolf, Mercer, Isran, and Ralof that I promised forever ago. I'm trying to keep chapters on the shorter side from now on, just because it's easier for me to write and easier for you guys to read. _

_As always, thank you so much for your support! It's always immensely appreciated. You guys are awesome. And now, I'm off to catch up on the slew of beta work I've got sitting to take a look at._

_Also, I have a series of one-shots that I'm going to be posting, all of which tie into In the Sun, expanding on things that I didn't really give a lot of attention to, or just things that I didn't include at all. It's called **The Last Rays of Light**, so go and check it out!_


	35. Matters of Importance

_A/N: So, I realized that ages ago I promised little updates of what everyone else was up to, and I just decided to put all of this in its own chapter, since they all just felt weird and awkward when I tried to place them elsewhere and they all have little bits and pieces that will be important later on that just ended up getting overshadowed by other things. Just a little bit of filler/an interlude to keep you guys occupied while I work on the next chapter. Enjoy!_

* * *

Endless frustration. As of late, that was all there seemed to be.

"Fuck," Brynjolf muttered, scrambling for parchment, a cloth, or anything else that could serve to wipe up the ink that he had just spilled. The inkwell had toppled over, the thick, dark liquid spreading across the Guildmaster's desk at an alarming rate. The letter he had tossed aside was absorbing the mess, the darkness quickly obscuring more news of the Guild's failures and shortcomings.

"Something wrong?"

His head jerked up, and he let out a sigh when he saw that it was only Arwyn and Vex, both watching him with mild bemusement and curiosity. "No, lasses. Nothing's wrong," he sighed, picking up the letter that had been drenched in ink, giving it a gentle shake. He looked up, noticing that both of the women flinched as splatters of black landed on their armor. "Sorry about that."

Arwyn leaned against the desk, bending down to inspect the dripping letter in his hand before meeting his worried eyes with her own. "What'd that say? Did it have news of the boss? When is she coming back, anyway? She's not dead, is she?"

Before Brynjolf could respond to the dark-haired Imperial's barrage of questions, her blonde companion reached out and wrapped her hands around one arm, yanking her away from the desk. "Go back to the Flagon, now," Vex said, letting out a groan of irritation as she shoved her partner towards the center of the Cistern. Once she was satisfied that Arwyn was on her way out, Vex turned back to Brynjolf, folding her arms over her chest. "What is it? What's wrong? Any news at all? She's been gone for a while. Usually she writes."

"I know," he responded, running a hand through his dark red locks before looking up to give her a comforting smile. "I'm sure she's busy, that's all. It wasn't from her, unfortunately. It was from Thrynn."

Vex cocked an eyebrow, waiting patiently for him to continue, to elaborate on the letter that had him so irritated. "Well?"

"Remember that job that Delvin told us about?"

"Yeah, I remember," Vex replied, absentmindedly running a finger of the worn edge of the desk. She paused, eyes narrowing as she looked up. "Why? What's gone wrong with it? I _knew_ something would go wrong," she added, the tiniest bit of smug self-satisfaction slipping through her usual cold, stony façade. "Thrynn is a moron. I told you to send 'wyn and me, but did you? No."

"Enough," he snapped, startling her with the biting tone. He sighed, giving her an apologetic smile before he tossed the now dry letter back onto the desk, watching the slip of paper flutter down slowly before nestling itself amongst everything else that littered the surface, joining the other bits and pieces that had served as bearers of bad news. He groaned, running ink-drenched hands down his face, fingers leaving faint, dirty streaks in their wake. "Thrynn didn't muck up the job, it was the job itself. It wasn't furs," he finally said, settling down onto the chair behind him, stretching out languidly. "It was _firs_. You know, as in… trees. Thrynn's letter said that when he and Vipir got into position to intercept the caravan, that's when they made the discovery. It was a caravan for a logging operation."

"Well, shit," Vex breathed, letting out a low whistle as she shook her head. "What do we do now?"

He paused, carefully considering his response, but ended up giving a tired, dismissive shrug. "I don't know. I suppose," he began, stopping suddenly. He honestly didn't know. The Guild had been failing, floundering for the past year, and for several months they had struggled, trying to restore the wealth and influence they had after Mercer vanished. They hadn't succeeded. "We'll wait for Indis to get back, and we'll keep our eyes and ears open for any news of jobs that we can take. Hopefully, things will get better."

"Hopefully," she agreed with a shrug. "Anything else?"

"Yes, actually. I know that before she left, Indis asked you and Arwyn to rummage through Riftweald, to look through every nook and cranny to see if you could find anything he'd left behind. Find anything interesting?"

"Oh ho, we certainly did," Vex replied with a throaty chuckle, before falling silent. She loomed over the desk quietly for a few seconds, her brow temporarily creasing as some unreadable emotion briefly flashed over her face. "Mercer had some interesting… hobbies, if you could call them that. We've got a whole box full of his shit that we dug up. She isn't going to be too happy once she sees some of it."

Brynjolf cocked an eyebrow, his interest obviously piqued. "Well? Do you have any of it here? I'd like to see what you're talking about."

Vex simply nodded in reply before darting away, returning after a few minutes with her arms wrapped around a small wooden crate. She deposited it on the desk in front of him, jostling the contents as she roughly shoved it closer to him. He stood quickly, wasting no time in reaching inside and rummaging through. He pulled out item after item, turning each object over in his rough, calloused palms, eyes narrowing as he inspected what he held, eventually setting it aside in favor of the next item. Brynjolf pulled out a thick stack of papers that had been tucked away at the bottom, eyes widening as he flipped through them.

"See, Brynjolf? I told you she wasn't going to be happy."

* * *

Throughout his time with the Blackblood Marauders, Jaree-Ra had learned to be a patient man. Pulling off the perfect heist had become something of an art form to him, and directing the bandit rabble that he worked with, planning out every single meticulous detail, and actually executing the damn plan took mountains of tolerance. He was a patient man, but as of late, Mercer Frey had been sorely testing him.

The Argonian had worked with the former Guildmaster several times in the past and had held a great amount of respect for the Breton thief, and when Mercer came to him, asking if he could lie low with the Marauders for a while, Jaree-Ra had obliged to the request without hesitation. He was now regretting that, but despite all of the grievances he had, he knew better than to get on Mercer's bad side.

"Did you hear what I just said?"

Mercer's sharp, gravelly voice interrupted any unpleasant thoughts Jaree-Ra was having about the man, and the Argonian looked up from the map he had been looking over, letting out a long, hissing sigh. "Yes, I heard. We've all heard this story several times," he replied, wondering if Mercer would pick up on the annoyance and disdain in his voice.

"Fools," Mercer replied with a laugh. If he had picked up on his companion's irritation, he was obviously choosing to ignore it, and continued on with the tale of his latest bit of trickery concerning the Thieves Guild. "I wish I could have been there to see their faces when they realized it was nothing but a pile of cut down trees they were after. I wonder how much gold they lost chasing after that job," he cackled, reaching out to snatch up the bottle of ale that was resting in front of him. He had been _so_ incredibly pleased with the idea of sending a misleading tip to the Guild, and once he had learned that they had taken the bait, he had become more insufferable than usual.

"Probably quite a bit," Jaree-Ra mumbled disinterestedly, casting his gaze upwards, towards the gaping hole in the ceiling of the cavern. The vivid oranges and reds of dusk were slipping in through, beaming down on the trapped ship below. In just a few hours, he wouldn't have to hear Mercer's haughty, obnoxious ramblings… for a little while, at least.

Mercer nodded, his thin lips tugging upwards into a self-satisfied smirk. "Probably," he agreed, taking another swig of ale. "Gods, it must have been fucking brilliant."

"Yes, yes. Probably," the Argonian agreed, his mumbles becoming even lower, words and tone becoming even more apathetic. It was so difficult to pretend that he cared. "I'm sure the Guild will recover just fine, though. It was one little job after all, and I'm sure there's going to be something coming their way that will improve things."

"You're sure of that, are you?" Mercer snapped, his fine, celebratory mood disappearing. Polishing off the rest of the ale, he slammed the bottle down on the table before reaching up to wipe away the drink that had dribbled down his chin, never tearing his steely gaze away from the quiet Argonian across from him. "Well, just you wait, then. I've got something big in store, and it's going to fuck things up. Things have already been set in motion, my friend. Just one little key, one little key event, is necessary to making it work, and then... I wait."

"Oh, really? What exactly do you have in mind?"

Mercer laughed, the harsh, barking sound cracking through the grotto's chilled air like a whip. "Do you really think I'm going to tell you? Surprises are _so_ much more exciting."

* * *

"I suppose that's the last of them," Ralof groaned, setting down yet another box overflowing with honeycomb. Working at Goldenglow Estate hadn't been too bad over the past few months; he had plenty of food, money, a place to sleep, and more importantly, unlike the College, there were no Thalmor in sight. He had become close friends with Rune, an easygoing, good-natured Imperial that was associated with the Thieves Guild. There was also an endless supply of honey and mead, and over the past few months, he'd found that copious amounts of both had only served to make his already rotund gut grow even more. He gave a nod of thanks to Rune, who leaned over to pick it up, watching as a small stone tumbled out of his friend's pocket. Bending over, he picked it up, inspecting it as he stood.

"What is this?" Ralof asked, rolling the small, carved stone over in his palm, gently running the pad of his thumb over the smooth surface. He squinted, peering at the worn carving on the tiny object's surface, before tossing it back to Rune, who deftly snatched it out of the air.

"I've had it ever since I could remember," the Imperial replied, fondly gazing down at the little rock before tucking it away in one of the many pockets that adorned his armor. "You remember what I told you about when I was a child, right? About how I was found by a fisherman, washed ashore after a shipwreck, unable to remember a thing?" After Ralof nodded, Rune continued. "He found this on me. I've held onto it ever since, thinking it might have something to do with my past and who I was before my father found me." He ran his hand over the pocket it was nestled away in with a sigh. "Never had any luck lookin', though. I've paid plenty of people to try and find something, anything, but so far… nothing's turned up."

Ralof frowned, reaching up to scratch his head. "Nothing? Have you gone out there looking yourself?"

The thief shook his head. "No, I haven't. There hasn't been much time, money, or opportunity. At least not until now," he added, thoughts briefly wandering to the small safe tucked away under the floorboards in his room, overflowing with his wages from Goldenglow, as well as a few other trinkets and valuables lifted from unsuspecting pockets. "I've earned plenty more working here. The Guild hasn't been doing so well, you know."

"So I've heard," Ralof replied, leaning against a nearby hive, pausing to swat away at a bee that drifted close to his face. "You know, we could go look, try and find something. We've got enough gold, and it'd be nice to get out of Riften for a while."

Rune silently pondered the question, staring at the strand of hair he was lazily twisting in between his fingers. The Guild hadn't much work as of late, Goldenglow had plenty of employees, and Ralof was right. It _would_ be nice to get out of Riften. He paused, plucking out the white hair that he spotted, briefly wondering where they were all coming from, before responding.

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

_A/N: If you figure out everything that's important in this chapter, you get a million bajillion gold stars and cookies. _


	36. Quick and Brutal

Indis couldn't ever remember the plains of Whiterun being so cold.

"It's freezing out here," Indis murmured sleepily, rubbing her hands together for warmth as she knelt down by the small, crackling fire that Teldryn had made when they set up camp. She pulled on the red scarf she wore, idly twisting the fraying end between her fingers as she gazed towards the sprawling city a short distance away. It looked comfortable, cozy, and she felt the slightest twinge of bitterness as the Jarl briefly crossed her mind. "Hand me that cloak, will you?" she continued, pointing to the heap of fur lying next to Serana. She accepted it with a nod, wasting no time in wrapping it around her shoulders. She was readying herself to speak again when another brisk gust of cold night air swept down through their camp, the scent it carried wafting up into her nostrils, jostling her awake.

"Do you smell that?" she whispered, the cloak slipping away from her shoulders. All of a sudden, a slight chill had become her last concern. She leaned over to nudge Serana, pointing in the direction that the wind came from. "Do you?"

Serana perked up slightly, sniffing quietly for a few seconds before nodding. "How many do you think there are?"

Indis shrugged, her response cut off by an irritated Teldryn. "What are you two going on about now?" His red eyes narrowed suspiciously as he observed the two huddled women, speaking in hushed, frantic whispers.

"There are vampires not too far from our camp," Serana responded, rising quickly to her feet. She offered a hand to Indis, pulling the small Imperial up to join her. "I'm not sure how many. We're downwind of them now, which is likely why they haven't noticed our presence. Not yet, at least. We should probably make an attack before they realize that we're here. Indis, do you think you could…," she trailed off, glancing up at her curiously.

"I-I suppose," she replied nervously, letting out a tiny sigh after gnawing away at her lower lip, depositing the cloak in a messy pile on the ground. She then set to work on the buckles and snaps that adorned her armor, slim fingers quaking as she undid them, and finally wriggling out of her armor once they had been unfastened. Tossing the black leather aside to join the abandoned cloak, she shivered, rubbing furiously at her exposed skin. "This isn't really how I wanted you to find out," she sighed, turning to face Teldryn. "But I suppose this is as good a time as ever. You might want to stand back."

* * *

Whatever Teldryn was expecting, it certainly hadn't been _this_.

After she had spoken, he had been distracted, horrified by her bare form and the way her hips and shoulders jutted out, the way her gaunt, tight skin stretched across her bones, and as she had started to strip down so that she was naked in the cold air, he had been pretty damn confused as he tried to figure out what in the name of the Tribunal she was doing. When she collapsed to the ground with a grunt of pain, hands clawing at the earth below as her skin rippled and bulged, soft cries mingling with the sounds of bones snapping and remolding, he had stepped forward out of an instinctive desire to help, to do _something_, but Serana held him back, shaking her head. They watched the horrifying process until it was complete, red eyes never leaving the large white and grey wolf that was standing before them.

No, he certainly hadn't expected _this_.

"Indis," Serana said, snapping her fingers at the large creature, who whipped its head around to face her. Yellow-silver eyes watched the vampire placidly, and the were-beast let out a tiny snort in response. _Good, it looks like she's in control instead of the wolf. This time, at least._ "Go get them."

They watched as the wolf sniffed the air, testing it, searching for the location of the nearby vampires. The creature that had once been a tiny, frail Imperial woman threw back its head, letting out a victorious howl before bounding away to face its foes. Its heavy footsteps faded away in the distance and Teldryn turned to face Serana, who was calmly staring off after Indis.

"What the fuck was that?"

Serana furrowed her brow, concentrating as she listened for any sounds that indicated that the attack had begun. "What does it look like? The thing that attacked her was a werewolf, Teldryn. It bit her, scratched her, did something to her, and she contracted lycanthropy. That's what she is now. A werewolf," she said, taking care to draw out the final word for emphasis, explaining the situation in a slow, condescending drawl.

"A werewolf." It certainly explained why she hadn't wanted to tell him what attacked her. He shook his head, thoughts returning to the current situation. "You just sent her after a bunch of vampires! Shouldn't we go help?"

The vampire shrugged. "If you'd like. I think she can handle it by herself. Her wolf has been dying to get out for days; you've probably noticed how restless she's been, haven't you? You can go ahead and follow, if you want. It'd be best if they didn't find out that I'm here, though. Remember how I told you that there's a new threat, one that the Dawnguard is trying to deal with?"

"Yes. What is it now?"

"One of my father's court members escaped. We must have missed him when we attacked the castle. It wasn't too difficult to do that," she sighed, recalling the thick, messy puddles of blood and goo that all of her father's court members became when they died. She waved one hand dismissively, brushing aside all thoughts of the dead, and continued. "It would seem that he's been trying to pick up where my father left off as far as the prophecy is concerned."

"Wait, the one with the bow and the sun? Something about your blood being necessary?" he asked, eyes flicking towards the bow that had been carelessly discarded and was lying propped up on a tent, before they moved to the pureblood vampire standing next to him. "You've been traveling with Indis and the bow? That's incredibly stupid. Everything they need is right here. You should leave before they find out that you're here."

"I know. It certainly wasn't the wisest idea," she replied, hastily making her way over to her knapsack, pulling her cloak out of it. She hoisted it onto her back, turning to face him as she pulled her hood over her head, pausing to adjust it. "You'll tell her why I had to leave, won't you? Just look after her."

Giving him one last little nod, she took her leave, inky black cloak obscuring her form as she walked off into the night.

* * *

"Please say something." Indis didn't want to sound so anxious and desperate, as though the fate of her world hinged on his response, but at that very moment, it felt as though it did. She swallowed the lump in her throat, impatiently twisting her hands together, eyes firmly focused on Teldryn's hunched over form.

He finally shrugged in response, running one hand over his face, rubbing away at the stubble that dotted his jawline. "I'm not really sure what to say, m'sera," he replied, looking up to meet her gaze with a startlingly blank and impassive look. Letting out a sigh, he looked away, focusing his red eyes firmly on the fire crackling and popping in front of them. "This is a lot to process, you know," he continued, still mulling over everything she had just spent the last hour telling him. The floodgates had opened and everything had spilled out. He had gotten swept away in the details, the sheer horror of it all, and he was still struggling to comprehend it, to make decisions how he felt about everything that had just been laid out before him.

She nodded, her head bobbing up and down in what was a wild, frantic gesture. "I understand. I do, Teldryn. It is. But… but what I want is for you to be honest with me. Please, don't hold back. I-I want to hear it."

He scratched at his face again, letting out the tiniest sigh. "You were eating a heart. A _human_ heart," he added, thoughts briefly wandering back to the sight he had stumbled across after Serana had left. As he had approached, he watched as she pried a vampire's ribcage open with nary a bit of effort, claws tearing away at the blue-black organs that had been safely nestled inside, tossing them aside before digging her snout in. She had surfaced with the vampire's heart in her jaws, gnawing away at the tough muscle. Teldryn had silently watched, aghast as body after body was torn open, heart was devoured, and bones were absentmindedly chewed upon. She had eventually dozed off, obviously worn down by the exertion she had put forth during her slaughter, shifting back to her human form, her bloodstained body curled up next to a dead vampire. He was _still_ trying to process it all.

"Yes, I was." It was obvious that he was uncomfortable. He was still refusing to look at her, instead staring at the same slow-burning ember at the edge of the fire. "Teldryn, just be honest. Tell me what you're thinking."

"You want me to be honest? I'll be honest. This is horrifying, but I think I can handle it. I _think_. Give me some time, though. I don't think you should be around Israna and Casimir, at least not for a while. Not after… not after Whiterun, and not until you get your skooma problem under control. I know that I said in Ustengrav that I wouldn't leave, not again, and I won't. With that said, I don't think we should be involved anymore. At least not intimately," he said, spilling out all of his thoughts and feelings in one large, incoherent jumble. It wasn't pretty, but this wasn't a pretty situation.

Her soft, quiet words surprised him. "I understand. I agree," she replied, tears beginning to prick at the corners of her eyes, and she willed them to vanish. She wanted to show him that she could be collected, that she could be mature about the situation, and that the heat from his body and the hand he had wrapped around her arm had absolutely no effect on her. "What happens now?" she asked, watching as he ran the rough pad of one calloused thumb over the raised, jagged scars that raced down her forearm. She raised her hand, gesturing back and forth between them with one slim finger. "With us, I mean."

"I don't know." His thumb stopped, hovering above her skin. "I stand by what I said before, even though we've agreed that ending any romantic involvement is in both of our best interests. I'm still willing to stay with you as your companion, to fight by your side through all of this. I meant it when I said that I wouldn't leave you to do this alone, m'sera. It wouldn't hurt for us to remain on good terms, if only for Izzy and Cas. Of course, it's entirely up to you. Do you want me to stay?"

She hesitated, gnawing on her lower lip as she stared off into the distance for several minutes, eventually looking up to meet his eyes with her own. She did want it; she wanted it more than anything, and the words that spilled from her lips surprised them both. "I don't."

He looked taken aback, as though she Her arm slipped through his grasp and he stared at her silently, brow creasing as he processed her response. "What? Why not?"

"Teldryn, I-I think I should do this alone."

"What? Is this about pride? About proving something? Because you don't have to prove yourself to anyone, you don't have to prove _anything_."

"No, it's not. It's not your fight. My problems, this Dragonborn business… none of it. I'm going to do this alone."

He threw his hands up, visibly frustrated. "Is that it? I'm a mercenary, Indis. Joining in fights that aren't mine is what I've done all my life. I'm coming with you, because you've proven that you need someone with you. I can help you fix-"

"No. I need a friend. I need a supporter. I don't need a savior," she snapped, startling him with the abrupt flash of anger that crossed her face. "That's not the only reason why, Teldryn. You being with me, but not _with_ me… Tel, I can't handle that. I love you," she said, the tears that had been threatening to spill from her eyes finally beginning to flow in steady streams down her cheeks, her anguish surfacing in the form of a choking sob. "I love you, and what you're suggesting we do hurts more than anything."

"Muthsera." He reached for her hand, but her arm impulsively jerked, swatting him away.

She raised one sleeve, rubbing away at the dampness on her puffy, red, splotchy cheeks, shaking her head. "Stop. Don't make this any more difficult than it needs to be. Maybe some time apart will make this easier. For me, at least."

"What do you suggest we do?"

Indis had left his side and had already begun the task of packing up the small amount of belongings that she had brought with her, pausing to wind her scarf more tightly around her neck. "I think that come morning, we should go our separate ways." A glance upwards from her knapsack revealed that the faint bleary light of dawn was already beginning to break on the distant horizon. She slung the pack over Horse's back, thanking the Divines that he was mercifully still saddled. She wasn't sure she would be able to lift the heavy saddle onto his back on her own. Soft rays of golden sunlight were beginning to spread across the plain, quickly creeping towards their campsite. It was time.

"So this is it, then?" he said, giving a defeated shrug as he slowly made his way over to her, reaching over to pull Horse's reins from her hands. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, wind-chapped lips brushing against the side of her face, and he reached up to cup her face, dragging his thumb across the scars on her cheek. "It doesn't have to be this way, you know. I promised I wouldn't leave you, not again," he continued, surprisingly her when his lips came crashing down to meet hers in a rough, needy kiss. Her body tensed at first before she relaxed, breath hitching in her throat as she returned his kiss with earnest. It felt comfortable. Natural. _Right_.

All of a sudden she shoved him away, shaking her head as she turned, and he caught her by the arm and tugged her back, maintaining a firm grip on her shoulders as he inspected her. He wanted to tell her that even with her bright, bloodshot eyes, her swollen, trembling lips, and her red, tear-stained cheeks; she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He wanted to tell her that the mere suggestion of parting ways was more unpleasant than he imagined it'd be. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry for not being there when he should have been. He wanted to tell her that even with all of their problems; he'd do it all over again. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but in that moment, words couldn't express what he was feeling.

He kissed her again, questing hands beginning to ghost across her form, seeking to memorize every curve and line as they roamed, as though it may be his last opportunity. Hesitating, he placed one hand in the small of her back, gently pulling her towards him so that she was pressed flush against him. He leaned down to speak, rough voice surprisingly tender.

"At least let us say goodbye properly."

* * *

_A/N: A million thanks to __**Kira Mackey, rookashwing**__ and __**SkyrimJunkie**__, for their help and insight on this chapter. An especially huge thanks to SkyrimJunkie, who has offered her services as a beta to help me stay on track with this whole thing. It was a tough one, trying to figure out what to do, but I just downed some wine and did what felt like the right thing to do. Now that that relationship business is officially over, there's some very important dragon business that's about to go down._

_Oh, and Delphine. There's lots of Delphine coming her way next chapter. That's going to be fun, isn't it? How do you think all that's going to go?_


End file.
